14 April 2009
a trip to the cemetery
Wanstead Flats. The rumble of traffic from the A12 and passing Central Line trains don't make for a particularly peaceful setting either, though that doesn't seem to stop the blackbirds singing away.
The superintendent seems to know everyone and has shown infinite patience towards my mum with her prevarications over various designs of headstones and the intricacies of family politics over who is responsible for whatever. (Let us not even begin to think about the tellings off I've had from various relatives because of tardiness in organising appropriate memorials.)
When she was younger, my mum and her sister used to trip along during the summer with their flasks of drink and some tuck and have a nice time sitting in the sunshine. Now she wants to organise a memorial bench for others to enjoy.