Friendship
A delightful account here from the funeral in the chapel of King’s College, Cambridge, of Sir Frank Kermode, eminent literary critic and, most important, very nice man, by John Naughton. It was, says Naughton, “elegant, moving, celebratory and only slightly elegaic. I think he would have approved.” Fittingly, “Afterwards, there was a splendid tea in […]
Who we are is what we mean to others
Here are some extracts from a cheering story in the Newburyport News, Massachusetts which has set me thinking about the nature of identity and community. My father, Arthur Allen, died at the age of 63 on Aug. 2. My dad was the embodiment of compassion, duty, style and bravery. He was the guy fighting for […]
The, er, whatchamacallit
If there’s any ordinary person worse off than yourself, you’ll find them in the problem pages of newspapers and magazines. Do you seek comfort in problem pages? A prurient frisson? An incredulous giggle? Much depends probably on the demographic catered for by the publication. The further downmarket you go, the juicier, sexier and more exotically […]
Death and hunger
Funerals in Britain are customarily followed by eating and drinking. Are there any time-honoured foods served at funerals? Are there traditional regional variants? Are there any funeral-specific favourites — the sorts of food people associate most strongly with funerals? I’m not talking generic sausage rolls and eggy sandwiches here. Is the custom of taking food […]
Funeral food – Kate Campbell
AuntAunt Fidelia Brought the rolls With her Green bean casserole The widow Smith Down the street Dropped by a bowl Of butter beans Plastic cups And silverware Lime green Tupperware everywhere Pass the chicken Pass the pie We sure eat good When someone dies Funeral food It’s so good For the soul Funeral food Fills […]
Going back for the – er, erm…?
There isn’t a name we all use for the gathering after a funeral, is there? Once upon a time there was the funeral feast, with bakemeats and all the booze you could drink—a good way of ensuring the dead person would be remembered fondly. But the feast petered out and became a bleak little tea. […]
