The morning after the day before

The day before had been a bit on the heavy side.  
It started at 10am with Irénés funeral.  The cathedral was full and Père the Dave did a good job, despite being stingy on the eulogy front.  I was expecting a low down on iréné's long life but he started to compare it to Jesus' a bit too soon.  I will have words with him the next time he comes to the mill for a barrel of wine.
Mme Biard followed her husband's coffin out, supported by two of her seven sons.   This broke me into pieces because she was both small and strong, with 70 years of married life behind her.  I also realised that I'd hardly ever seen her lower body because all our long conversations take place with her at her first floor window and me on the street. 
I left the cathedral and found a bench far from the madding crowd on which to cry into my mask,  but the madding crowd is never far enough in this town unless you take to the hills or the middle of the river
Mu had her first vaccination and when we got home all slipped south.
Josette wept because she'd lost her denture and her son had told her she was a nutter and never wanted to see her again.
Karl had just left, heavy hearted, for St Tropez to be private chef for a bunch of very rich tax evaders who'd invited Kate Moss and Simon Le Bon onto their yacht for a few weeks and needed a bit of grub to stave of the hunger induced by sunbathing etc.  Within a couple of hours Emma had become a single, and potentially homeless, mother and so brought a bottle of gin round for consolation. 
Once it was gone we went back to her gite for further consolation in the form of a rhubarb and ginger gin which was too easy on the palate.  Mu and I got home via the river without incident but found Josette walking up and down the street, a lost, tearful soul. 
I took her back to her chaotic house and up to her chaotic bedroom where a
realitytalkshowquizbunchofterribledancersdancingtoterriblemusic screamed out of her television.  I was more stubborn than her and made her take her meds.  She rallied but did so.
This morning my mu and I prepared a beautiful gite in the in the most beautiful  place.  Mu slowly waned as the morning went on.  Once we'd finished we had sandwiches and a swig of wine on the terrace, pretending we were on holiday.
Maybe gin + Pfizer aren't good room mates.
I haven't seen Josette today.