Tempus Fugit

Tue, 16 Jun 2026 07:59:22 GMT

Family funeral yesterday for one of the cousins (the eldest of my mother's older sister's kids - four brothers and two sisters). They mostly stayed in Blyth, where my parents came from, while we moved away as kids. One of his brothers remarked that it's probably 40 years since we've seen each other and it's as long, or longer, for the cousin who died, I certainly can't recall when I last saw him. We actually see more of Lynn, the cousin who moved to Australia, than we do of four, now three, of the siblings who didn't.

We'd arranged to go through to Morpeth and meet Les, the one UK resident cousin we see regularly (he'd come through to visit about once a year with his other aunt, my mother's sister-in-law) and head into Blyth for the funeral with him. Which was a nice straightforward trip until about a mile from his new house when we needed to get off the A1 and my sister's car's satnav went berserk and tried to drive us through a cattery. Fortunately we were close enough that I could see which roads we needed to take on the screen. Apparently she had exactly the same problem last time she went to Morpeth - but that was on a course five years ago, and you would have hoped it would be fixed by now!

It should have been a straightforward trip into Blyth, but a traffic jam led to Les treating us to a quick tour of the dodgier back streets of Ashington. We finally came into Blyth from the North, with a five second view of the North Sea through the dunes as we passed over the mouth of the Wansbeck, with my sister and I looking for the sights we recognised - mostly St Cuthbert's, where my paternal grandmother was housekeeper to the parish priest for many years. There's massive changes since we were there regularly, with Bates Pit opposite the cemetery, and where many of our relatives, including both grandfathers, once worked, now replaced by light industry and housing.

Nice short non-religious service, though the chapel in the crematorium is a little bizarrely laid out, with the coffin lying at right angles and almost off to the side of the congregation. OTOH probably not as bizarre as when my sister was there during COVID for my uncle's funeral and there were nine seats equally spaced around the chapel. And then a bunch of hugging cousins and telling them "My god, you look like your dad used to!"

An unexpected bonus was one of the cousins had been working through their family photos and had a gorgeous shot of my mother for us. It's black and white, clearly a studio shot, she's probably aged about 15 (the age she started dating my dad), and she looks beautiful. I've seen it before, but my sister hadn't, and the copy I've seen is only wallet sized. And apparently there are a few others he'll scan and send on to us.

The trip back was a lot more straightforward, we knew where we were going this time, but my plan for spending the rest of the afternoon reading turned into sleeping the afternoon away. I know I had a conversation with my sister part way through, but I have no idea what it was about.

But it's a little sobering that it's now my generation dying .....

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David Gillon

Tempus Fugit