My wee aunt's service was beautiful and simple, overwhelming too, I'm all cried out. A Catholic service just as my granny and grandad - and she herself - would have wished. I have no religion but the hymns were gorgeous and even the interludes of readings/prayer - a kind of buffering from what is about to happen, the actual burial. Like any funeral or wedding, family members thrown together, people we don't see for years on end, suddenly in the same space. There's much to catch up on, but not enough time, conversations started and not finished, and as usual I was talking so much - someone asked me about my book - I did not manage to finish eating, the tables were being cleared, so I nabbed a scone away with me though I had to forgo the jam and cream. The last time we were all together was at my granny's service almost three and half years ago. At that time, my publisher had just gone into liquidation and the book's future was in horrible doubt, so it was so lovely, this time, to have people coming up to me saying how much they had enjoyed it. The morning of the service we were staying with my aunt and uncle who live very near the street I grew up in and I joked with my mother that I was up so early I felt like I should be going to school.