Funeral

Nana never had any savings. Well she never really had a chance to have any savings. She and granddad worked form the first moment they were able to until ill health had them fired. Granddad had a nasty disease that caused his bones to keep growing in very painful ways (I don’t know the details, only what family passed on). He was a trawler-man, a job that was horrendous for a man with his health problems. As he deteriorated he became a fish fileter, until he collapsed walking to work because he just couldn’t walk any longer. He was fired, no redundancy, no pension

Nana worked in shops all her life, she retired aged 79 because she was getting confused. Naturally, no pension.
So saving was something that was never possible for them, saving, owning their own home, owning much of anything really.
One thing she did pay for were her insurances. Little penny policies she paid out every week and when one was finished, she’d start another – because, as was common of families living where and when she did, you had to do something to pay for your funeral. It was a thing – you had to be able to pay for your funeral. Before she lost her ability to interact with the world, she used to go funeral shopping. Yes, I didn’t understand it much either.

So now we have a dozen of these tiny insurance policies. Half of them are pre-decimalisation. So I’m looking at policies which pay out “£24 7s 12d” here. This is going to be fun.
And it doesn’t help that the insurance companies don’t listen

Company: You need a certified copy of the death certificate

Me: I know

Company: That means you can’t just photocopy it

Me: I know

Company: What you have to do..

Me: I know what a certified copy is. I have several. I asked for several when we registered the death (oh and you would not believe the agro that was)

Company: But it can’t just be a photocopy

Me: you said that. I know. I said that as well

Company: Well, you have to make sure…

Me: I’m a lawyer. I know. I have had many many many certified copies made.

Company: But…

Me: sigh Ok explain to me what a certified copy is *reads book*

It was quicker to let them do the spiel.

Oh and the newspaper. The newspaper that put the date of her funeral early on the day after she died. She died Saturday, the funeral was Sunday morning apparently. In fact, only a few hours later. (Hah, given the drama, we couldn’t even have registered the death in that time). She’s being cremated, the ovens wouldn’t have heated up. The only way this could have happened is if she was strolling through the cemetery, had a heart attack and keeled over into a conveniently open grave. Did no-one think when checking the message to see if they got it right? *double sigh*

Now legions of relatives are ringing and squawking about it. Dad and I both have changed our answer machine messages “yes, we know the paper got the date wrong. The real funeral is on Monday at..” it occurs to me I don’t know the time. To the to-do list!

And now there’s a vicar lurking around the edges trying to talk to people. Ugh ugh ugh I hate hate hate hate religious funerals, I really do. That’s dad’s job, I’ll do as much as I can to help him organise everything but I draw the line at enduring clergymen, I really do.

Ugh and the funeral is going to be a family event that I can’t leave early. Maybe I do need some pills.