I always quite enjoy funerals. You meet up with lots of people you haven't seen for ages and you can compare a) how well you are and look compared to them b) how well your brain is compared to theirs and c) commiserate about their grandchildren. Whilst waiting for the service to begin I observed to the person on my right that there were a large number of people in wheelchairs and crutches as well as a plethora of walking sticks.
" Yes" she said " I think a trip to Lourdes could be quite productive"
The deceased was a very handsome man who bore more than a passing resemblance to David Niven, complete with pencil mustache. During the 30's he had been what was known then as " A gay blade" - I hate to think what that might mean now, but then it signified a dashing character who had great success with the ladies.
As his eulogist put it:
" Not to be let loose with any good labrador bitches."
The only slight fly in the ointment was when a very elderly doddery man asked me how long I had been retired for. When I replied that I was still working, he replied.
" Good God - at your age?"
I am clearly not as well preserved as I think.
Update: Another elderly gentleman wanted a whisky, but there was only wine free.
" Ah" he said " In that case I'll have a bottle of white wine."
" You mean a glass."
" No, I mean a bottle."