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Lovely funeral this morning, although I do say so myself, for Willie. Willie was 97 and a Portie worthy and worked for British Rail nearly all of his working life. He was a member of the BR Touring Club and they travelled all over the UK and Europe competely free. How great is that? I hope it's still the same today for Railway employees.

After the service we processed outside, round the path to his grave under the avenue of trees. Then the family, a few midges and I bade our farewell to a quiet man. Perfect!

If you are a regular reader/commentator of this Blog then you will know that we have been experiencing some problems lately. If its any consolation, it is just as difficult for me to log in and make comments. I have become a regular complainant too and am assured that it will be fixed soon.

So if you have left a comment and have not had a reply please bear with me. (Still considering a move.)

St M's has its own graveyard. It is quite lovely and if I didn't have a family plot to go into when that time comes, I wouldn't mind settling there for eternity. Lovely tree-lined avenue, well kept grass and some interesting headstones. Tomorrow, for the first time, I shall be interring someone in said graveyard. It occurred to me that I had no idea who dug the hole. I do my own for ashes, but who does it for full size coffins?

Turns out it is the local Council graveyard who come along with their digging machine to do it. And guess how much they charge? £950!!! Now if I thought some nice muscly gravediggers were getting some of that I wouldn't mind. But I bet the man with the scoop ain't getting £950, that's for sure. Blimey, I'd dig it myself for that.

Last night's Vestry meeting lasted one hour and one minute. Is this a record? It would have been an hour had I got away with not allowing AOB. (Worth a try!) Mind you, our Property Convenor didn't arrive so that might have had something to do with it.

Can you beat that? What has been your shortest Vestry/PCC meeting?

Scene: the end of the 8.30am Mass while people are praying and I am standing at the door waiting to greet them.

Woman 1 to Woman 2: (Nudge) Come on, we'd better go. She's standing there like a piece of four-penny cheese.

I'm never very sure if one ought to blog about really personal things. Like illness, for example. Fine to mention the odd sniffly or cataract op, but when it comes to something more intimate or gruesome I wonder whether the whole world really needs or wants to know. Sometimes things are better left unsaid!

However I have decided to share a brief moment from my day this week when I lay on a hospital bed in the Endoscopy suite at the Western General having my orifices attacked by long snakey cameras. Sedation, my arse! (and yes, I did choose these words carefully) Sedated in that I was off in some strange land but was frequently brought swiftly back to reality when the snakey camera reached a bend. The one down the throat passed uneventfully but the other was not such an easy trip.

And nobody had warned me about the noises in the recovery ward after. How can I put this delicately? Imagine 10 women of the middle aged variety doing something that normally would be done under the bedcovers in the privacy of your own room. No, that doesn't sound right. Ok, let's spell it out. Passing wind - that's what they were doing. Rip-roaringly passing wind. Constantly. In fact, being encouraged to. It passed an amusing hour or so, I can tell you.

And the outcome of my tests? Nobody came to tell me, other than giving me a bit of paper and told to contact my doctor next week. I won't go in to the reasons for the test but I did not expect to be told I may have an ulcer and do have diverticula. (Go look it up yourself.) Neither of which explain my symptoms. Bah.