On the scale of things Doodle an abscess is minor, it's the timing which annoys me
just when I needed me feets.
I have some home-made salve which works better than anything I've ever received from a doctor over the years, so that will put me right.
As to the funeral:
When we old ladies go en masse to a Maori funeral (tangi), we look like a flock of crows in our traditional Bible black.
But kindly crows, to those who know why we're there, and always requested as a comforting presence and sign of support.
But very few New Zealanders know anything about Maori, or traditions.
Although Derek, the husband is Maori, and we were there for him and at a Maori funeral home, his deceased wife, Lynette, was not.
So the majority of the sizeable congregation stared at us as if we'd walked straight out of Macbeth and would be muttering curses.
There were few of the typical Maori elements in the funeral. No prayer (karakia) at the beginning, no practised speakers, no Maori language, no waiata (songs in Maori) and only one favourite Maori hymn** which Derek hurriedly insisted on just before the end. It obviously hadn't been included.
So that's why it seemed unusual, but people got a tearful chance to speak about Lynette and her wonderful impact on their lives, that's what matters.
**Whakaria Mai – though I have to say we sing it more like the beginning part, rather than the jazzed up bit
though I like that too.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqoG-znXf7I
'hirple' is a Scottish word which means hobble or limp.
Many Yorkshire words are Scottish, we are only 200 miles apart, so I was brought up with them.