Spring

Nobody told me there’d be days like these
Strange days indeed — strange days indeed

John Lennon

For the last three days the UK has – without warning – suddenly found itself basking in almost summer-like conditions. The skies have been clear, the sun has shone brightly and temperatures have edged towards the 20C mark. With the trees full of blossom and a whiff of spring in the air the average Englishman’s blood is up and he finds his thoughts turning towards…

…the joys of open top motoring!

I have more to say on this strange English obsession with convertibles. Needless to say I own one and will shortly make an appropriate introduction – but for now other strange and contradictory matters are on my mind.

Friday last found me – instead of celebrating the end of term at School – driving for two hours down to the East Sussex coast to attend the funeral of an old family friend – the husband of my brother’s godmother. Though I did not know him at all well he was the last of that generation – those to whom I had religiously sent Christmas cards since I was a boy – and as my brother and sister were both out of the country I felt I should represent our side of the family. I was somewhat surprised to find that the service was a full requiem mass in the Anglican High Church tradition – complete with copious clouds of incense and extended chanting. It is many years since I attended such, and I can’t say I am any more comfortable with it than I ever was.

I didn’t know anyone else in the church and had resolved not to stay for the ‘afters’, when I found my attention diverted by a late arrival who sat himself further along the same pew as me. I regarded him suspiciously – as did he me – but neither acknowledged the other. He was the spitting image of my nephew – my sister’s son – but as I wasn’t expecting him to be there I found myself uncertain as to whether it was really he. After the service he hovered at some distance and it was only at the point at which I was leaving that he came over and said ‘hello’.

Apparently he had not been sure if it was me either. In his case, this strange lapse was explained by his not having seen me in a suit and tie for many years. In my case it was because of the exotic and relatively mature woman who was draped all over him! Not only had I not met – or indeed heard anything about her – but I don’t actually recall ever seeing my nephew in the company of a lady before… The times they are indeed a-changing!

If I found it difficult to focus fully on the funeral it was because another such is on my mind. My oldest friend – whom I have know since I was nine and he seven – had called to tell me that his mother had died. She had been a friend as long as I have known him – very nearly fifty years. She was a remarkable lady of a generation and breed the like of which we probably won’t see again, and was rightly decorated earlier this year for her many decades of charity work. She will be hugely missed. I had feared that her funeral would take place whilst I am in BC, but it seems likely now that it will be held after Easter instead – for which I am very grateful.

As I drove back from Sussex on Friday afternoon I decided to eschew the motorway and to take the old A road under the North Downs. I have known parts of this route for many years as my grandmother on my father’s side lived with her sister – my great aunt – only a few miles from it. Driving it again in the sunshine – regardless of the modern rush and press of traffic –  brought back a flood of memories of a simpler time.