I didn't sleep a wink last night. I suppose it was the relief that yesterday was over, and we'd got through it.
I was in bed listening to the radio, and my mind was going ten to the dozen, the result being I was astro-planing, or in more realistic terms, thinking about Oswaldtwistle moors.
It started I suppose because Mum has recently told me that she wanted a cremation, and like my Dad no gravestone. With Dad, we followed his wishes, and scattered him in the sea down in Pembrokeshire, where they had recently bought there holiday cottage to enjoy their retirement, and where they had the boat moored. We did keep some, and scattered him around the pond he and myself and recently built together at their home here. Well you do get quite a lot of ashes for your money, so there was enough to go round.
Mum told me she wants her ashes scattered up on the moors above Ossy. She said hopefully it won't be for a long time, and if I'm too old to get up there, to fasten the ashes to a large, strong looking rabbit, and let floppsie take them up for us. Typical Mum.
I've always loved the moors. I remember picnics after church, and if I really begged we wouldn't take the car but we'd walk, and that felt like a real adventure.
Thirteen years ago on Easter day just after my Nan, Mum's Mum, had died, we left Dad tinkering with the boat and set off on a picnic. We walked past Haslingden Old Road and up towards the top res, the one that had bust it's banks in the early 70's and sent massive boulders hurtling down towards the town, and could have turned Oswaldtwistle into the setting for a disaster movie, which was so popular at the time.
We found a sheltered spot with a great view. It was a clear day, and you could see the distant peaks of the mountains in the Lake District. We ate our sandwiches, and whilst we were drinking our coffee, watched an early dragonfly hovering over a discarded banana skin. We watched it for ages in silence. It was beautiful, we both laughed when we realised we'd been sat there like two numpties for over half an hour, getting numb bums perched on two flattish rocks.
Simple things for simple minds.
I agree with Mum. I won't need a gravestone to remember, just a flask of coffee and a banana skin.
I was in bed listening to the radio, and my mind was going ten to the dozen, the result being I was astro-planing, or in more realistic terms, thinking about Oswaldtwistle moors.
It started I suppose because Mum has recently told me that she wanted a cremation, and like my Dad no gravestone. With Dad, we followed his wishes, and scattered him in the sea down in Pembrokeshire, where they had recently bought there holiday cottage to enjoy their retirement, and where they had the boat moored. We did keep some, and scattered him around the pond he and myself and recently built together at their home here. Well you do get quite a lot of ashes for your money, so there was enough to go round.
Mum told me she wants her ashes scattered up on the moors above Ossy. She said hopefully it won't be for a long time, and if I'm too old to get up there, to fasten the ashes to a large, strong looking rabbit, and let floppsie take them up for us. Typical Mum.
I've always loved the moors. I remember picnics after church, and if I really begged we wouldn't take the car but we'd walk, and that felt like a real adventure.
Thirteen years ago on Easter day just after my Nan, Mum's Mum, had died, we left Dad tinkering with the boat and set off on a picnic. We walked past Haslingden Old Road and up towards the top res, the one that had bust it's banks in the early 70's and sent massive boulders hurtling down towards the town, and could have turned Oswaldtwistle into the setting for a disaster movie, which was so popular at the time.
We found a sheltered spot with a great view. It was a clear day, and you could see the distant peaks of the mountains in the Lake District. We ate our sandwiches, and whilst we were drinking our coffee, watched an early dragonfly hovering over a discarded banana skin. We watched it for ages in silence. It was beautiful, we both laughed when we realised we'd been sat there like two numpties for over half an hour, getting numb bums perched on two flattish rocks.
Simple things for simple minds.
I agree with Mum. I won't need a gravestone to remember, just a flask of coffee and a banana skin.
