A sort of courtesy aunt whose funeral I recently attended shows how differently people (and events) can be viewed.
I thought of her as a determined spinster - an amusing card of my acquaintance described her as a package returned unopened.I liked that and it fitted my view of her precisely.
I was taken aback at the funeral to meet an extremely elderly man, who no one knew. For reasons I can never fathom, as ever, I was detailed to find out his reason for being there.
I introduced myself and asked what his connection with the deceased was.
" I was one of her lovers during the war." I must have looked shocked, because the elderly gentleman went on, " I wasn't the only one of course."
It turned out her nickname had been the Faslane ******; delicacy forbids using the word on a family blog.
By all accounts she had a wonderful war and fully deserved the nickname.
" But then, " said my informant " We all did. It was the best time any of us have ever had. I used to travel up from Pompey ( he had been a sailor) when I landed taking more than 24 hours to get here, spend a couple of hours with her and then 24 hours back again."
" And was it worth it?"
He grinned at me.
" It was a bloody sight better than a bar of chocolate and a pint of weak beer."
And off he wandered straighter of back and jauntier of step and with a silly grin on his face.