Spring

Whilst whiling away the time in between customers and knitting on the taxi rank last night I was delighted to find on Facebook an article, with the benefit of pictures, about an up and coming fashion in America for propping a corpse up and encouraging it to attend its own funeral.

I was captivated by this idea, which struck me as being one of the most appealing ways of bringing a bit of interest to a funeral that I could imagine.

The corpse in the pictures was wedged upright in a chair, not made particularly beautiful in death by having died of fifteen gun shot wounds. His eyes were open, which the undertaker explained had been done as a surprise for his parents, which I could imagine would indeed be the case.

I told Mark about it later and said that I thought it was an inspired idea and one that would provide a good talking point if ever we needed to arrange a funeral, but he was unimpressed and pointed out that I would very probably get drunk and forget what I had done with the corpse, which on reflection seemed quite likely, I have had to make a guilty return to places to retrieve forgotten dogs and also children in the past. Mark said that if I wanted a go at that I was at liberty to plan it for my own funeral, but this seemed to be a bit of a disappointment, it must go down as the most rubbish party to attend ever and there is no point in having a corpse hanging about to provide a focal talking point if you are too dead to appreciate it.

I was interrupted in my knitting and general philosophical speculations shortly after that by an idiot getting into the taxi, who was not only rude, but who refused to get out: and fortunately, five minutes after that, interrupted again by the police, who told him that it was not at all acceptable to be horrid to nice old ladies in woolly cardigans and handcuffed him and chucked him in the back of the police van. This was a pleasing outcome, except that I had to make an appointment to make a statement at the police station. We made this, to our mutual satisfaction, for quarter to four in the morning, and I dropped in after work to find that at that time of day there is no queue at all, everything gets done very quickly, you might consider that next time you are trying to present your documents or similar.

I spoke to two very charming teenage boys dressed up as policemen, who wrote down my statement for me. I thought they were very kindly and helpful indeed, except they both looked as though they could do with a few early nights, were outstandingly expert in the use of information technology and might have benefited from a couple of lessons in written grammar.

They enquired whether I would like to make a personal statement about the trauma I had suffered due to not being able to persuade the idiot to get out of my taxi, but I politely declined, and in the end somebody rang me the next morning to say that the idiot had been slung out of the police station with a caution and he was very sorry, so that was a satisfactory outcome and a good start to the day.

The good start did not last very long, because we were sitting peaceably drinking coffee in bed and wondering about my dream of old ladies  who happened to be armed to the teeth with AK47s, when a terrifying thing happened.

An enormous spider appeared on the headboard and waltzed along the top of it right next to my ear.

I shrieked and leapt out of bed leaving Mark to be eaten, so it is not true about love and self sacrifice, in the event of a shocking emergency before you know where you are it has already been every man for himself and you are a rotter in your soul.

Mark is much braver than I am but even Mark was mildly unnerved by its hugeness and large quantity of legs, and whilst he was in the bathroom hunting for a glass in which to imprison it it ran away down the back of the bed.

Mark pulled the bed out and started looking for it because I explained that if we did not find and evict it then we would be obliged to move house, on account of not at all wanting enormous hairy spiders crawling in and out of my ears when I am asleep.

Whilst he was doing that it emerged on the top of the headboard and started in the same sanguine stroll all over again.

Mark was somewhat startled by my squeals but nevertheless captured it in the glass and even though he was still wearing his dressing gown, escorted the spider all the way across the alley to find a new home in the builders’ yard in order that I could feel reassured that it had thoroughly left the premises.

So even though it is Sunday we have had lots of adventures, and what is best of all, the sun was out and the world was actually warm this morning. There was a snowdrop flowering hopefully in the garden, and for the first time we smelled Spring beginning to be in the air.

This made Mark think of trailer loads of horse muck, preferably well-rotted with straw, and he has been pondering the issue ever since.

I did not especially think of horse muck, but pegged the washing on the line and flung all of the windows open for an hour or two, to air the stale winter feeling out of the house.

I took a picture of the snowdrop for you.

See you tomorrow.