Thursday 26th April 2018.  To Brighton for Hilary’s funeral.  Cold and bright, a stiff breeze whipping up the sea; a luminous day for sad goodbyes.   Walk up through Brighton’s endearing mix of shabby elegance and ephemeral tackiness to the stern Victorian Gothic of St Michael and All Angels.  The mourners do their self-conscious best with ‘Lord of All Hopefulness’ and ‘Lord of the Dance’.  A tribute – stories of Hilary I never knew; poetry of Yeats and Wordsworth; a homily; and comfort from St John – ‘I go to prepare a place for you…I am the way, the truth, and the life’.  Behind me a voice from the ether adds guidance: ‘GPS signal lost’…’turn right’…’turn left’…’turn right’.

Photo: Brighton, April 2018

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