Fin



I'd like my funeral to be on a Friday. Monday's are miserable enough aren't they without adding to the desolation. I toyed with the idea of a Wednesday, 'hump' day as it's called by some. But Friday. End of the week. End of a life. I came into this world on a Saturday so it seems fitting to leave it on a Friday. I mean, I guess, or should I say, I hope I would already have left prior to party day, it's not like we can do a quick turnaround here like they do in some parts of the world where weather, religion and sometimes both, dictate.

"Ooh she's getting a bit morbid, our Jayno", I hear you cry! No, not really. None of us are here forever, however harsh that sounds, we have to face it at some point. I've experienced more than my fair share of funerals, which, after time gets you thinking about  your own and how that might pan out. The problem we have here is that it happens after we're gone so, unless we make our wishes known, we could end up with something completely different to what we would like. Not that it probably matters right, we'll not be here to witness it will we? Well you lot might not be but I bloomin well will. Right there, watching from the royal box, making sure I get my full 30 minutes worth!

And is it fair to leave it to someone else to plan? I think not. It's bad enough for family grieving their loss without having to think whether you'd have wanted mourners to wear purple or black, if there should be flowers or a collection, whether you'd really meant it when you'd told them years ago that you wanted Jive Bunny, Agadoo and Oops Upside Yer Head (including down there on the floor actions) as your funeral songs!

So it got me thinking, all this funeral experience, each and every one different and I created a sort of little league table in my head. Don't get me wrong, not in a 'Greetings Pop Pickers' top 10 countdown by event, but in a league of 'Yep! I'll have thats', through to 'Not over my dead body' way.

Alright, calm down, you can quit your tut-tutting and that slow headshake! I'm 51 for gawd's sake, I'm more than half cooked. (Half baked more like!) And given our family history, well.....

Anyway, up there in prime position at Numero Uno, Number One is: No religion!
I doth my cap to those of you that have your faith, good on you, but for me, nada. 'Gods' didn't do an awful lot to help me when I was here so, at my final shindig, quite simply no. Instead I'll have one of those Humanist services, with a bit of added Jayno bling. I have 3 funerals that stick in my memory, each Humanist, each where the celebrant conducting the service had taken the time to speak with friends and family and truly got to learn about the person whose life they would lead a celebration of. They completely nailed the memories and their little quirks, to a T. So much so that there was racuccous laughter followed by tears of sorrow and more laughter. Compare that to one where you're asked to provide a brief bio on what your loved one was like and on the day they get it so wrong. You sit there thinking who's funeral am I at? You can hardly get up and interupt, "Err, 'scuse me, you haven't got a bloody clue mate!"

Number Two: Laughter.
It's got to be, right? The best funerals always include laughter. It's a must. I've spent most of my life laughing and trying to make people laugh, so it would be wrong not to have a few chortles at my passing out parade. Of course if the laughter was to come from me that day there would be something seriously wrong! For that reason I think I'll insist on a minute's silence - not as a mark of respect but for everyone to hush & check there's no Mutley-esque giggling coming from inside the box. On the slim chance that there is, then we can abandon the rest of the proceedings and get back on with life, literally and someone make sure to have a word with the doctor! There should most definitely be jokes, not in a Knock Knock kinda way - but hey that WOULD be funny if I was the one doing the Knock Knocks ;-) Maybe a glass of Fanta as everyone walks in, loosen them up a bit. But jokey memories like 'Remember the time she came out of the toilets at work with her skirt tucked in her knickers?'* followed by 'Thank gawd she was wearing knickers!" Cue chortles. You get the picture. It should be a happy day. Not happy that I've gone, unless you really hate me, but happy I was happy being happy.


Number Three: Tears.
Don't you be getting too bloody happy! I want tears too. OK some of you (you know who you are) will have taken the laughter too far and, along with the effects of the Fanta, the tears would have already set in. Tut! The rest of you - I'll provide the tissues. They'll be handed out at the start with the Fanta. One each. Enough for you to dab each eye and snort out that runny nose that always starts when you have a good cry.  No wailing though. I draw the line at wailing. It's not a bloody Bob Marley concert.

Number Four: Music.
Number 4 in my league, if you get it right, can have a real effect on number 2 and number 3. Because of number 1 there'll be no hymns, which is a shame as there's a few hymns I love crooning along to at full volume, despite the lack of religion in my life. It harps back to junior school and weekly hymn practice. Mrs A performing live on the old Joanna and a hall full of cross-legged excitable West London 8yr olds belting out Living Lord, Jerusalem and  good old Joshua and his walls of Jericho. The louder they were the better and the louder they were the louder we were. Never did take much notice of the words but knew a good tune when I heard it. So no hymns and no show tunes, this is my show and I'll not be having the lairy lot amongst you (you know who you are too!) taking it all Jazz Hands! There'll be some tunes from across the oceans, something older than me, some classic 80s and some Oasis. No I'm not telling you here and now, blimey, there's got to be some surprises hasn't there otherwise none of you would turn up! I'll give Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life a miss. We had it as the curtain tune at dad's, whistling included. It shocked some, it made us smile. A final 'Up Yours!'. It was most apt. I'm a tad sad that my mute button will be permanently deployed and I won't be able to grab the blue mic and knock out a few notes SingStar style with y'all. Don't let me down. Swig that Fanta, wet your whistle and sing like there's no tomorrow.

Number Five: A bit of a do.
Come on, be honest with me, the best bit, no? Making smalltalk with people a) you don't know from Adam; b) you despise c) haven't seen since you were knee-high to a grasshopper or e) share an equal love for the mutual friend lost. I love all of those. Even 'b)'. You've no choice with 'b)' but to put on a face, bite your lip and be 'pleasant'. Quite how pleasant can range on a sliding scale from 'enough not to embarrass your mother if she were still alive' through to 'so sickly sweet it's like you were bottled by Tate & Lyle'. I'll be watching, me and my pleasant-o-meter.  You'll be glad you had that Fanta earlier, lined your stomach, you know what you're like when get talking, all pleasant-like. You get thirsty. Yes you. You of 'OK I'll have a small glass, pay my respects but I can't stay long' fame. Four hours, 3 bottles, the whole 'Pleasant-o-meter' scale later & there you are, karaoke mic in hand, knocking out "Save a Prayer" because you "hic" think Jayno deserves "hic" a little bit of Duran love for old times sake and that song has more sway value than Losing My Religion. "Hic". Please make this happen.

So there you go, Jayno's Funeral Top Five. In print. Both here and on paper but with a bit more detail such as cardboard box, the warm way not the cold way, no flowers, soundtrack and in what order, where to scatter me after. A subject that many find difficult to discuss because 'it's uncomfortable' or 'doesn't feel right' or 'it never seems the right time'. Take it from someone who knows: not knowing what your loved one's wishes are and being left to guess most certainly doesn't feel right and is excrutiatingly uncomfortable. The right time to talk is now ❤


*Yes, it happened.


Now, grab yourselves a Fanta, pump up the volume
 and have yourselves a little practice 😉 



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