THOSE who know me also know that I am more than dissatisfied by my experiences with the execution of the Funeral Plan and with the off-hand attitude of the Tanatorio.
But that paled into insignificance compared to my absolute disgust when Mary turned up with the urn containing Pete’s ashes.
The unattractive appearance of the urn I could overcome – but to present it to me with Pete’s name printed on sticky-back paper, peeling at the edges and not even stuck on straight was an insult to me, and a mark of total disrespect for the person contained within.
Determined to address this disgraceful situation I decided to get a plaque made to attach in place of the offending paper.
I went here, I went there, I went everywhere, but all those who I asked were unable to do a plaque, as the urn is curved.
My last port of call was a little watch repair shop. He looked at it glumly, and declared that it was too big to go in his inscribing machine, and he didn’t trust his hand-writing to attempt it freehand.
I have no issue with any of these, better no job than a bad job!
I left, carrying Pete, and went into Felix’s Farmacia to get my pills. There was a queue, so I would have to wait. Pete was getting heavy, so I put him on the counter.
Having worked my way to the front of the queue I procured my pills and turned to leave.
What happened next?
