Today’s was that of one Iain Hamilton, who used to organise our German conversation group. A formidable intellect: he spoke more languages than you can shake a dictionary at: French, German, Dutch, Afrikaans, Czech, Danish, Italian, Spanish - and he was evidently studying Swahili and Scots Gaelic when he died, just days short of his 87th birthday. Another ‘state funeral’, lasting an hour and a quarter or so, attended by I’d guess a good 150 at the surprisingly vast parish church down the road: Iain was a member both of the church choir and of the town’s Orpheus choir, so the congregation’s singing was well augmented. Anthems, hymns, lengthy tributes, prayers and all the rest, and his best friend and companion Lesley read - in impeccable French - a lovely Jacques Prévert poem about two snails who went to a funeral.
I suspended my attendance at the conversation group during last year’s health episode, but Iain kept me in the body of the kirk by asking me occasionally to find a text for the group to discuss: I usually found something Swiss, having typecast myself as a helvetophile - and got distinctly snotty when he turned his nose up at my offering!
Fellow German conversationist Sheila came to us for a sandwich beforehand, since she was concerned about finding a parking place at the church. I drove there, and luckily found a slot near the door. She very kindly brought us a pot of fritillaria meleagris in flower, and they will improve our garden for years to come.
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