But, then again . . . . .

By TrikinDave

Hobgoblin.

Sis and I went to The Old Lady's church today to see the minister about the funeral and sat with TOL's elder for the service, this musical lady has a mighty powerful voice and sang the hymns with gusto. They stay for coffee afterwards so we joined them and, once again, everybody was so supportive. It means a lot to us.

After a pub lunch, when we sampled the local Hobgoblin ale, we visited some of TOL's friends, those that we can't contact by phone as we don't have their numbers; the intention was to invite them to the funeral but, of course, we were seriously delayed. Initially, our concern was that we might be interrupting lunches, we needn't have worried on that account as we ended up interrupting their teas instead. We particularly wanted to see Millie, but her pets said that she was busy with her afternoon nap and they didn't want to disturb her (greyhounds do seem to need an awful lot of naps); we did leave an invitation for her but were told that her sleep requirements are rather extensive and would prevent her attending. Our last visit was to Mr Lavender, a keen gardener; many years ago I was given permission to brush against the herb bushes in his front garden when ever I went past, I find the smell quite addictive; I have never knowingly missed an opportunity of availing myself of this privilege, even making significant detours while running messages to do so.

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