Twice in a week

In stark contrast to Colin's funeral on Monday, Margaret's yesterday was a quiet affair.  Since it doesn't look like there'll be any memorial to her, here's a quick obit.  Margaret ('My name's not Peggy: it's Margaret Stirling Donald!') was next-door neighbour to my late mother-in-law in Corina's care home in Tonbridge.  Born in Invergordon in 1915, Margaret's early life was not in the warmest of family surroundings, and we understand that her subsequent marriage was annulled.  She was quite young, then, when she joined what was to become the Women's Royal Army Corps.  When I called on Edna at the home, I'd often find Margaret peeling the potatoes in the dining room.  'Spud bashing again, Margaret?'  'Aye, I'm on fatigues again!'  By that stage she had pretty well lost her eyesight, but kept up the repartee.  We'd often sit with her and Elizabeth in the lounge, for example when Edna was sleeping or being helped to answer a call of nature.  I don't know how the subject came up, but I remember her saying one day 'Ah, but David's got a fine head of hair.'  Hmmm.  And the annals of the care home record her potting up the bedding plants roots-up, bless her!  She is survived by Elizabeth, her companion of many decades, also ex-army.  Elizabeth told us yesterday that, when they first came to see the home and rang the bell, Margaret said 'We'll be a'right here!': the door bell played 'Greensleeves', the slow-march tune of the WRAC.  The committal was barely that: a bit of solemn music at the beginning, then a nod to the undertaker to come and push the button.  Mourners?  Corina, Martyn and yr. obed. servt. 

Returning to the utterly mundane, on the way home we called at the sorting office to collect a parcel that they tried to deliver in the morning when we were variously out: the new shower head.  It turned out that we didn't need to send for a plumber.  Unclip a trim, undo four screws, remove old shower arm, offer up new ditto, tighten same four screws, refit trim.  Bob: uncle; Fanny: aunt.