Beyond the Grave

Beyond the Grave

I told them I don’t suit navy, so what am I doing in this ruddy suit?

I wouldn’t mind, they’ve parted my hair on the wrong side and stuck a stupid ribbon on top.

A bit of lippy wouldn’t have gone amiss and, while I’m at it,  a warm coat would have been more appropriate in this God-forsaken hole than the thin jacket I’m wearing. One of my jumpers would have been appreciated but I bet they’re sat in British Heart Foundation’s window as we speak.

How long have I been down here for?

I feel as if I’ve been down here for years but it’s only seven days – not much time for grieving huh! – get it over with and get on with our lives seems to have been their mission.

I can’t smell wood, I’m sure I’m laid out in a plastic coffin when I specifically asked for oak – just wait till they get on the other side, I’ll have it out with them.

I hope the spread at the Dog and Duck lived up to its reputation as will have big John taking advantage of the free bar.

I can’t hear anything but that’s down to the soft so-and-so’s forgetting to put my hearing aid in. Oh! One last thing, whose the idiot who forgot to put my glassed on me. I can’t stand being seen without ‘em. It makes my face look pallid!

Beware you lot you’ve got a lot to answer for. Notes have been taken!