On Friday meet father in London at thanksgiving service for family friend. Manage to cry less than at funeral, and am in fact quite uplifted by celebration of a good life, fully lived. Beautiful readings, beautiful music; and, as father remarks rather loudly, Nice And Short.
Back home for charity music evening in Village Hall; bring-your-own drink flows freely as large crowd decked out in red and white enjoys somewhat Eclectic selection of Local Talent.
Sister arrives late on Saturday afternoon; has taken eldest son to Freshers’ Week at nearby university and is feeling Old. Spend several hours discussing past, present and future of children, selves and world, and eventually conclude that should join Twitter. Cannot in cold light of day entirely remember why this felt to be answer to everything, but have done so in case it is.