Thursday, 22nd December 2011
I called Steve about 9am and he said he was aiming to get an earlier train, which he did. I went into Prescot and called into the Halifax to see if there was anything specific they needed from me to deal with dad’s accounts. I have lasting power of attorney for his affairs, which apparently ended when he died; so I need to get the grant of probate, and then make an appointment to see the person who deals with bereavements. I picked up some brawn from Yeats & Greer’s and I then jumped a 10A to Rainhill to meet Steve and Freddie at the station. All was well with Steve; great to see him and he had a stress free journey. No one vomited on his bag.
Steve kindly brought my suit for the funeral; luckily it was clean, no running round to the dry cleaners. Mum had a few more bits to get from Planet Tesco, so Steve and I walked up there via Berry & Jagger, who were not having a jamming session, but wanted me to pick up another form for mum to sign. We changed our mind about dad’s ashes being scattered on the rose garden in the crematory. I was not pleased with leaving him in Woolly Back Land. Dad was a proper Liverpudlian and had even said some time not too long ago that he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes cast into the Mersey, so he could flow into the sea and be reunited with his father, who went down on a merchant ship in 1940, thanks to U-boat 100.
In Tesco, we pumped into Ceira with her mum. Ceira’s hair had been rescued and was a lovely dark auburn colour. I introduced Steve to Trish. She asked if Steve was cooking and said she had been told all about him. Steve looked worried at this. Trish then asked if Nick and K were coming for dinner on Christmas day. I said I thought he was but would not be too bothered if not as I would probably get the gravy wrong or give her something that would kill her. Oh well.
In the evening, Nick came round and he, Steve and I went to the Holt to give the manager the deposit for the hot buffet. We then had a strole down to the village and a few pints in the Commercial. Nick said that he and K would not be coming for lunch on Christmas day after all, as he has too much food to waste. I was a little disappointed, but perhaps I would not get so stressed.
Earlier, Freddie had jumped up at mum and scratched her ankle. Not much blood but as her legs are oedemas, so leaked a bit. Later, as mum made her way to bed, there was a trail of leg juice across the floor! Poor mum.
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