Last couple of days
Sep. 13th, 2003 07:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
burntcopperToday we sold scary amounts of 35mm SLRs to people going to college or starting A-Level Photography. Which is at least different from the usual digital camera parade. And leads me to looking at my beloved Canon EOS 350 and poking the extra picture shortcuts on the new SLRs that appear around the dial from the usual letters and go 'bloody hell, and I thought I was lazy when it came to using the functions on my camera...'
Anyway. Funeral and Wake were the usual Wallace/Cooper family affairs. Well, the Wake was. Talking nonsense, being silly and going through Gran's severely scary collection of strange and unusual spirits that taken in anything larger than sips will strip the skin from your mouth. Rose liqueur, neon orange vodka, some drink made from kiwis, and of course several of us were testing them gingerly. Yours truly had got my young cousin Tim by the ear and kept handing him tiny sips of the stuff. He's decided Oswald's fave tipple, whisky, is disgusting. Oh, and me and Mark going through my Uncle Ian's scrumpy. Which is odd and tastes foul but gets better as you keep drinking. Drank, ate strange finger food provided by the caterers, found that pizza slices dipped in sesame and soy are rather nice, then me, Mark and Matt adjourned to the pub at 9:30. Have discovered that since Matt and Tim's hair has darkened considerably since the last time a pic was taken of the clone line-up, the cloning is even more obvious.
Funeral was... well, it was fitting for Granma. A few jokes from the vicar about Gran, a bit of Onward Christian Soldiers (none of this namby pamby happy clappy for Gran), and a lot of the grandchildren in tears. Tim was probably the most broken up aside from Bina, Gran's sister, and required me, Mark and Matt to hold him up half the time. Gran was buried in the same grave as Grandad, who died when I was two - first time I'd ever been to Grandad's grave, which was... odd. I only know him from a couple of photos and several stories.
Also had it hammered home to me how much my immediate family goes for appearances and repression - you're not allowed to be loud or innapropriate in public, and I really want to kick my mother in the head sometimes. The world is not going to fall upon its ears if I laugh louder than she thinks is appropriate. I don't think she's ever going to realise that she makes more of a scene hissing at me and then remonstrating with me about my supposed faux pas, or one time actually pulling me out of the damn room. With accompanying furious face and very obvious hand motions. Yes. Kill.
Day two was spent clearing out Gran's house of clothes and so on. Not really much to say there.
Anyway. Funeral and Wake were the usual Wallace/Cooper family affairs. Well, the Wake was. Talking nonsense, being silly and going through Gran's severely scary collection of strange and unusual spirits that taken in anything larger than sips will strip the skin from your mouth. Rose liqueur, neon orange vodka, some drink made from kiwis, and of course several of us were testing them gingerly. Yours truly had got my young cousin Tim by the ear and kept handing him tiny sips of the stuff. He's decided Oswald's fave tipple, whisky, is disgusting. Oh, and me and Mark going through my Uncle Ian's scrumpy. Which is odd and tastes foul but gets better as you keep drinking. Drank, ate strange finger food provided by the caterers, found that pizza slices dipped in sesame and soy are rather nice, then me, Mark and Matt adjourned to the pub at 9:30. Have discovered that since Matt and Tim's hair has darkened considerably since the last time a pic was taken of the clone line-up, the cloning is even more obvious.
Funeral was... well, it was fitting for Granma. A few jokes from the vicar about Gran, a bit of Onward Christian Soldiers (none of this namby pamby happy clappy for Gran), and a lot of the grandchildren in tears. Tim was probably the most broken up aside from Bina, Gran's sister, and required me, Mark and Matt to hold him up half the time. Gran was buried in the same grave as Grandad, who died when I was two - first time I'd ever been to Grandad's grave, which was... odd. I only know him from a couple of photos and several stories.
Also had it hammered home to me how much my immediate family goes for appearances and repression - you're not allowed to be loud or innapropriate in public, and I really want to kick my mother in the head sometimes. The world is not going to fall upon its ears if I laugh louder than she thinks is appropriate. I don't think she's ever going to realise that she makes more of a scene hissing at me and then remonstrating with me about my supposed faux pas, or one time actually pulling me out of the damn room. With accompanying furious face and very obvious hand motions. Yes. Kill.
Day two was spent clearing out Gran's house of clothes and so on. Not really much to say there.
