The title, I imagine, has already highlighted a divide in my readership. How many of you now think I am going to a formal dinner? You may want to think about my normal lifestyle before answering that . . .
And how many of you think I am going to a funeral? Out of that number, how many of you recognise the growing panic of a man who only ever wears a tie for funerals, and can’t remember where he put it last time he wore it?
I’m not alone in this, as the feedback for the company supplying ties has many references to the hurried purchase of black ties. Unfortunately the delivery has not lived up to its promise and I didn’t get it yesterday, which got me worrying. Fortunately, I remembered. Where would you put a funeral tie? Yes, for the past few years it’s been nestling in the pocket of the dark coloured jacket I use for funerals.
Red Admiral on Red Valerian
When I was a younger man I imagined very different life for myself, with an endless supply of ties and an array of suits for all occasions, but this is what it has come down to. One tie, one jacket and no dress sense. It’s not quite as bad as jogging bottoms, but in sartorial terms I am definitely teetering on the edge of an undesirable slope, and I need to have a serious word with myself.
For now, I will prepare for the funeral. It is the funeral of a cousin who I honestly expected to attend my funeral. He was a bit older than me, but had a much healthier lifestyle. I have attended to my clothing, trimmed my beard and am just making notes of the post code and addresses. Julia will be going to work and I will set off for Knaresborough after dropping her off. Then in ten days time we have the funeral of an uncle. He was 100 and it was not such a shock, but it is still a shame to see all the older members of the family drifting away. The sense of loss is not always grief. but sometimes just the loss of history and the realisation that I never took the time to get to know them better. Perhaps I ought to write a memoir with the family stories I want to preserve. After all, it’s likely that one day a younger member of the family will one day realise they wished they had asked me something while there was still time.
Painted Lady Nottingham
I have a very dark blue tie which masquerades as a black tie when necessary.
Dark blue is very acceptable colour for these things. I had to buy a special black tie as my normal ties were completely unsuitable – I was not known for muted colours, subtlety or good taste. Actually, I’m still not.
Fine reflections on the stage that many of us will recognise. I have a vast collection of ties which I never wear, but preserve just in case. And then, who does wear them now – even for funerals?
It was a reasonably old and drab congregation today, but yes, apart from office workers who wears them now. A large contingent from Hearing Dogs fro Deaf People were there in maroon sweatshirts, which proved you don’t really need drab clothes to show respect.
You wrote, “The sense of loss is not always grief. but sometimes just the loss of history and the realisation that I never took the time to get to know them better. Perhaps I ought to write a memoir with the family stories I want to preserve. After all, it’s likely that one day a younger member of the family will one day realise they wished they had asked me something while there was still time.” The line is getting shorter for all of us, and your words have pierced the heart of the subject like an arrow. Born to older parents (mother 47, father just a few months shy of 50) I have seen all in that generation on both sides disappear through the gate. I was 21 when I lost my father. I also wish I had taken the time to ask more questions, and to understand the older folks. Too late now, any closure is now one-sided. It is hard to understand until there is less road ahead of one than there is behind. I have lately come to the conclusion the elders, too, must engage the younger, and ask questions of them to hopefully get the conversation moving both directions. Sow seeds of interest.