The Morning Sun

A thin sabre of light pierces the shade, and my heart beats a little faster at the thought of a sunshine day. My eyes are awake but my mind is still in that world of never land that we call drowsy. Slowly the old brain begins to reflect the real world and I realize that it’s still dark and my heart beating sabre of light is in actual fact Alec’s Land-rover headlights, he’s the geezer that lives across the road and it’s still pissing with rain! Oh well it was good while it lasted.

When I was a nipper my mum (remember her?) she used to let me stay home from school to keep her company. I look at the Princess and wonder if it’s worth asking. Then I realise that it isn’t, so I head for the shower because I can’t be bothered doing my Pilates exercises this morning. In the shower my brain becomes a little more alert and I remember that today I’m taking my aged sister and brother-in-law to a funeral. In Stockport, that’s in Cheshire and about 100 miles away.

He wanted to drive, well he’s only 85 so why not, except he doesn’t like the Sat Nav. We ignore the aforementioned device and add 20 miles to our journey, but they’re old and we’d set off an hour before we had to, so plenty of time. The rest of the day unfolded in much the same way. She dropped a glove on the way out of the Crematorium, I quickly picked it only to find the other one was missing when we got outside. She’d left that one on the pew. Have you ever tried to fight your way back into a horde of people departing a Crematorium? Only then to fight your way back out again? They hadn’t remembered my entrance and so (by the look on their faces) assumed I was trying to dodge the collection. As we careered our way to the funeral tea, dear sis realised that she’d left her handbag behind. Luckily he hadn’t heard her cry of exclamation, so a 3-point turn upon the dual carriageway  was avoided as I heard the second exclamation stating that she had found said handbag in the footwell.

The meal was lovely but surrounded by two deaf people, who don’t like hearing aids, it was a little repetitious. My auntie joined us (also deaf) and not really an auntie. Her mother was a friend of my grandmother and they all got intertwined somehow. To give you a little taste of my  afternoon, here is one of the conversations:

Auntie to brother-in-law, “I hope you have a good run back to Yorkshire.”

Me to Auntie, “I hope he’s not running back, I was hoping for a lift in the car, haha”

Auntie to me. ” No, thank you, Charles (they all call me that) I’m getting a lift with David.”

These were very astute people a few years ago. They could party all night and still be compos mentis (that’s Latin, who needs Eton when you have Google), so I think I might just carry on smoking and possibly even drink more to save me from old age! 😂😂

 

About charliecountryboy

Carpenter and Carpentry Lecturer. Writer, 5k and 10k runner, musician. Curious about life and all those wonderful people in it.
This entry was posted in Blogging, Family, Humour, Life, Opinion, Relationships and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

28 Responses to The Morning Sun

  1. This one really made me laugh, and it was about a funeral! Witty yet sensitive and brilliantly recounted, Charlie – you are at the peak of your sharp observation skills here; love it!

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Ana Daksina says:

    Hahaha — CHARLES!! 🤣

    Liked by 2 people

  3. hahahahahaha I can relate to your sister very well.. 😉

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Love the pics of your life/people/past.

    That was a sweet remembrance of their times. With an acknowledgement of your own mortality.

    I’m too wordy today. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Laleh Chini says:

    Great photo, funny story.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. BossMama says:

    always enjoy reading your stories

    Like

  7. Carolyn Page says:

    Commiserations Charlie, it is difficult – this aging thing!
    Therefore, I’m not going to do it either… hahah
    But, you know, Charlie, that I mean it… 😉 😉 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  8. My husband is 86, and neither of his doctors want him to drive. He does on local roads where there is little traffic.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Invisibly Me says:

    Oh the bitter harshness of reality!
    I’m not sure who’s funeral it was, but I hope your sister and brother in law are okay.. I do think for occasions such as this your sister should perhaps wear a velcro coat, where gloves and bags and anything else detachable from her person can be attached.
    My dad can only hear when you shout (he’s also got selective hearing, but he thinks I don’t know this) and isn’t fond of his hearing aids, hence he wears them so rarely just to piss people off. “DAD, DAD, DAD…” – deep breath, but I don’t have the lung capacity nor the loudness of voice, so I give up – “oh never mind you grumpy old fart”. Of course he hears the last part I’ve mumbled!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Great tale, Charlie! Isn’t it fun to drive old people around? Die young and pretty. I learned that by watching both my parents die old, ugly deaths. Thanks for your support — it’s much appreciated!

    Like

  11. Lara/Trace says:

    Ah Charlie, was it OK to laugh… because we have so little laughter, you made my day!

    Like

  12. nitinsingh says:

    Stories 🙂🙂🙏

    Liked by 1 person

  13. K E Garland says:

    LOL this is exactly how conversations with my great aunt and grandmother sound lol

    Liked by 2 people

  14. Watt says:

    What an awesome story!! I love your style as well.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. That is your future. I’m already trying out deafness and it seems to be going well. Julia has gone the other route and is world class at losing things. I am hoping to spend several years being a burden to my children before they lock me a way or take me to Switzerland..

    Maker the most of your remaining faculties, they don’t last as long as you think! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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