The proof copy of the Order of Service for Dad's funeral arrived by e-mail for me to check today.  I found four errors in it which have been corrected and re-sent to me prior to printing.  I feel a great responsibility to get everything just right for the church thanksgiving service and the committal at the crematorium on Tuesday.  I've already phoned the funeral directors once this week to double-check that the right music will be played at the crematorium - dare I phone again on Monday to triple-check...?

I had thought I was coping pretty well today at work, but seeing the Order of Service on the screen - with Dad's name and his dates of birth and death on the front - really brought it home to me with a little bit of a shock.  I travelled home with that leaden-hearted feeling once again, longing to be with Dad and knowing I never can be.


All Souls Church in Portland Place looked particularly beautiful this evening as I walked out through the front doors of Old Broadcasting House.