Farewell to Hastings

I feel like my heart's been dragged over coals after my aunt's funeral yesterday. She was only 51. It felt like something breaking inside when I saw my mum, nana, her sisters and my uncles weeping together.

I guess it's pointless to gnash my teeth, rend my clothes and scream at the skies over the injustice - the universe is unilaterally unconcerned with it all. In spite of this, I can't help feeling impotently angry about it.

There were so many cousins, second cousins, aunts and uncles, great uncles and aunts, not to mention friends and colleagues. My head was spinning from all the introductions. Every person I hugged seemed to cause a fresh uprising of grief in my gullet. Mascara was a tactical error.

At least it's over now, and we can all focus on the mammoth task of reassembling our lives without her. I hate this time of year.

The 5 1/2 hour train journey back to Exeter was pretty grim, as expected. I had to rush across London with a stupid amount of baggage and just made my train with minutes to spare. I'm home now and it feels... unreal. I wanted a shot of the fisherman's market in Hastings as my farewell to my hometown blip, so here it is.