Fears, hopes, doubts, wishes, hush my pensive shell,
Fount of them all, dear Lake! farewell! farewell!
Wordsworth, written on the bank of Lake Windermere.
It may have taken a long time to get ourselves organised, but finally we two estranged brothers made it together to Lake Windermere, where mum’s ashes were finally scattered.
A memorable few days it was too.
Tinged with sadness? Of course. However, three days of nostalgia went down very well with copious quantities of local ale and more wine than you can shake a stick at.
There has always been a smidgen of sibling rivalry betwixt the two of us, with Mick’s 5 year head start putting me at a disadvantage that my superior intellect and physique (delete as appropriate) has struggled to overcome. Suffice to say, I now feel my drinking abilities also inadequate.
Having cast mum onto the cold waters, we toured the local sites, hostelries etc until the weather forced us permanently inside.
In truth, a small amount of mum’s ashes were held back (what I lovingly refer to as ‘mum’s left foot’) so that it can be mixed with dad’s ashes back in France. It would be disrespectful to make jokes about where I should put mum’s left foot, suffice to say we will have a further ceremony when we can get all the kids together at the same time. Resting in peace isn’t what it used to be…
The scenery was beautiful, albeit dark and wet..
The hotel was stunning (good choice Mick)
and the boats, as Mick pointed out, were nearly as big as his…
Thus, with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction, we both headed back abroad our own seperate ways. He to Majorca, me to be interrogated in the airport as to the strange grey substance in a plastic bag that I carried with me.
'Bye Mum.
Phil
