Z sings. Badly, but the wonder is that it was done at all

I was writing an email to a friend earlier on today and, halfway through, realised that a whole paragraph was not a personal, chatty letter but part of a blog-post.  I know I get personal here and goodness knows I'm chatty enough, but a fine line had been crossed.


If only I could remember what I'd written, I'd be well on the way to tonight's post.  Ho.  And hum.


Anyhoo.  Kenny's funeral today.  Most of the people in the congregation, some sixty of them before the family came in, were village residents who had known Kenny and Muriel for many years.  It's noticeable that the church always fills up from the back on these occasions, but if people don't know each other they sit in the next pew.  In this case, everyone did know each other and so filled each pew.  Thus it was that, sitting down almost last, the Sage and I found ourselves in front of everyone but the family, albeit halfway down the church.


And there was another thing - hardly anyone was a regular churchgoer, so singing of the hymns was muted and cautious.  It was quite a contrast from last week's funeral, where the singing was vigorous and excellent and I was able to be very quiet.  I'm not a good singer.  My voice is a bit thin unless growling around the lower register, which hymns don't, and I never quite know, when I open my mouth, what will come out (this happens with speaking too: mouth overtaking brain is what my sister calls it, although in that case it's usually offering to do something that I'd be far better shutting up about rather than hitting a duff note).  However, in this case someone had to be audible, and it seems it was going to be me, so I piped up and did my very loudest and best.  


There was a meet-up at the pub afterwards, so I toddled along.  The Sage was coming too, but got side-tracked somehow (I don't know, darlings, he was probably chatting to the gravedigger and advising on filling in the grave) and so it's a good job I have Social Skills and don't rely on him being at my side.  He did arrive in the end, but I was ready to leave by then so he came home some time after I did.


I answered various business emails and phone calls and was suddenly very tired, so went to sleep.  I can't have slept for more than five minutes - I curled up in an armchair at 4.50 with the paper, didn't read it for long but was woken just before five by the Sage coming home from Yagnub with some tulips for me.  He'd bought some for Muriel and thought I'd like some too.  He was quite right.  And the catnap was enough.  


Clients came later to look at the china, which will now be packed away, and then I cooked dinner and that'll be about it for the night.  I'll gaze cluelessly at the crossword for a while (actually, that's not quite right, I've got the clues, I just won't be able to answer the buggers) and listen to music and do nothing much else.


You'd love to know what music I'll listen to I daresay.  Well, I've been playing the Elisabeth Schwarzkopf operetta CD and now I'm listening to Shearwater's new album, Animal Joy.  I think it's jolly good.  Later - I don't know yet.  I need gently cheering up, ideally.  Nothing too demanding though.  Any ideas gladly received.


And now I've got to think of a title for this post.  Always summat, innit?  


PS - this has published in tiny writing.  I've changed it to LARGEST but it's made no difference.  I'm so sorry, I haven't done a thing to cause it.  It's bloody Blogger again.