Up before 6am. Started working through my three books of funeral poems & readings plus another one from the library. I had done this periodically over recent months, usually on a Saturday morning and sometimes with Juliet and always found it a very sad business, obviously. Reading them for the best part of three hours was extremely draining, but I made a shortlist of a dozen or so. I used a system that I think the late DJ John Peel used to select records: three stars for definitely, two for probably, one for possibly. Trouble is I marked almost all my choices with two stars: indecision.
More sympathy cards arrived. Then I did more forms filling and phone calls. Amazing how emotionless call centre staff can be. I mean, I didn’t expect them to be weeping back down the phone at me but it was just a barrage of questions about national insurance numbers and so forth. By the end of one phone call I couldn’t remember if I’d phoned the Department of Work and Pensions or HM Revenue and Customs. (Just checked: neither. It was the directGov Bereavement Service).
Our Humanist celebrant advisor arrived for a meeting with us in the afternoon. We spent two hours going through drafts, poems, readings, music, running order etc etc. Exhausting but a very good meeting.
Hoping to get a photograph of Juliet’s tree published in the local village magazine. Watch this space.