Wild rose by rte cemetery gates

I walked to work today with the the wheelie bag, and slipped out close to 11 am for the funeral of John Marjoram, Stroud’s ten-times mayor and Green councillor, who died around two weeks ago. Steve had held me a place in the queue, and eventually we were admitted to the Sub Rooms’ ballroom. It was packed. John was a much respected and loved citizen of Stroud for many years. Like my mother, he developed noticeable signs of dementia (Alzheimer’s, not vascular) in 2021, the year he resigned from politics. Fortunately, he had a very loving second wife who took care of him to the end.

I had to leave the service after one hour and ten minutes as it seemed it might go on for longer than I had expected, but Steve attended the burial and watched the funeral procession, accompanied by the Red Band . After I’d walked home, I went to the cemetery to look for John’s grave, but I couldn’t find it. I will look again tomorrow. It was a golden evening for a walk.

I made vegetable soup (boring) and more flapjacks. We watched TV. I have eaten something, or smelled bonfire smoke from a few doors down, that has caused my nose to drip unceasingly. Antihistamine tablets make no difference. It’s time to crack open the complementary therapies .