I had two funerals to conduct today, the first one this morning was for a Funeral Director I had not worked for before.  When the hearse pulled up, I went to the car to meet the family.  There was a man, who looked sad and I remembered him from our family meeting.  I went over to him and gently put my arms on his shoulders, as I began to talk kindly to him.

The man recoiled – shock horror in his face.  I am NOT family; I work for the Funeral Director!!

Thankfully the service went well, I then drove to my next service 20 miles away and arrived 1 1/4 hours early.  Lovely chance to relax… so got my cushion strategically placed on the back seat, then got in and put my feet up.

Gradually people began to arrive for the service and were parking around me.  When it was time to make a move, I went to open the door and realised the kiddy locks were on, and I couldn’t get out of the car from the back.  I leaned over the front seat and couldn’t reach the button to release the door.

I then – in my suit – had to try and climb between the two front seats. Believe me in a Peugeot that is no mean feat.  I ended up with my head down by the brake and my arse up in the air going over the seats….. not a pretty sight, and it was in full few of the mourners.

I then had to collect myself, stand tall – look reasonably sensible and conduct the service. Which fortunately went well.

It was about 16 years ago that I had organised an evening trip for work to Wakefield Theatre.  This also involved dropping everyone off afterward at their homes and then taking the minibus home with me.

The following morning, my eldest son Ben was swimming in the school gala at Spenborough Swimming Baths.  He was a dedicated and excellent swimmer, competing regularly for the Borough of Kirklees.  Ben was ready early to get to the gala, and I had promised to drop him off on the way to work.

We left home in the minibus, it was rotten weather, windy and had been raining for days.  Arriving at the baths, I decided to run him down into the car park, because the road he had to cross was busy and as mentioned the weather was terrible.

I maneuvered across the road and down into the car park.  There is a pedestrian bridge, which you have to drive under into the car park.  The measurement sign on the bridge was precise; I was 100% positive that my minibus height left plenty room to pass under the bridge.

MISTAKE

I began to drive under, and there was the most horrendous noise, as the roof was ripped as it caught the bridge.  Pulling up with a start, my son just said, ‘thanks, mum,’ leaped out and left me sat there.  Stupidly, instead of backing out, I drove forward, and it is not rocket science that this made it much worse and the roof was severely damaged.

I panicked and phoned my husband, who has a minibus business.  He thought he had misheard me, ‘you have done what?’, then,   ‘I am on my way.’

When he arrived, he stood and looked and was speechless, then he asked, ‘how did you do that.’  “it’s bloody obvious how I did it’, I responded in tears.  The banking up to the road was deep in mud, because of the weather.  The only way to get the bus out was to drive back under the bridge.  The right side of the bridge slightly sloped higher.  He let some air out of the tyres, and we were able to drive the bus out.

To this day, every time I go into a car park or under any barrier, I duck.

I went to conduct a funeral today, when walking into the crem I found I was limping quite a bit.  Wondered what I had done.

Was walking through the waiting area, where two ladies were sitting – we exchanged pleasantries, and when I looked down, I noticed I was wearing odd shoes.  1 pair flat and 1 pair 1 1/2 ” heel… hence the limp.  The ladies saw them when I did, and we all laughed.

I keep flat black driving shoes in the car and change into heels for my funerals.  Someone rang me when I was changing, and I must have thought I had both shoes swopped.

I went back into the waiting room where the ladies were to get myself a drink of cold water.  They have a water dispenser, I took the cup and placed it under the nozzle, pressed the button and the soddin water came out of the other nozzle – all over the floor.

The two women said – it always comes in threes, so I promptly tripped up on my way out of the room!!

I had been on a night out and the following morning decided to wear the same trousers and a clean top for work.

At lunchtime, I drove into our small town, parked my car and set off to walk to my bank on the main through road. The road was very busy with traffic, being lunchtime.

As I was walking on the pavement, I could feel something flapping around my ankle. I looked down and realised that I had put on some clean tights (it was winter and bitter cold) and left the tights in with my trousers from the night before.

Stupidly, I decided to remove the offending last night’s tights. I bent down and began to pull and as I pulled they got longer and longer. I could feel them gradually working their way out; I looked like a magician pulling never-ending scarves out of a hat. All of the cars were slowing down or stopping to watch.

I couldn’t stop until I had got the tights out. Obviously, I couldn’t now walk with them hanging out. It took probably 3 minutes but felt like a lifetime. I then stuffed them in my handbag and carried on to the bank as if nothing had happened.

Back in the day when we wore sponge rollers in bed, it was incredibly annoying that although they were comfortable to sleep in, one roller would always come out during the night. You would wake up with curly hair and one straight piece.

I saw a brilliant idea in a magazine – take some old tights, cut off the legs and put the nicker bit over your rollers to keep them in place while sleeping. They wouldn’t come out – hair perfect in the morning. What a brilliant idea, can’t remember what my first husband thought about that!

One day at work we had an important meeting, the ‘important people’ had seats, and the less important staff had to stand around the edge of the room (this included me).

I was leaning against the wall and could feel something pushing against my back. I had a shirtwaister dress on and asked my colleague quietly at the side of me to check down my dress. I have a voice like a foghorn, and she didn’t do discreet, so between us, everyone had turned around to look.

She put her hand down the back of my dress and pull out the top of the tights I had been wearing over my rollers in bed. The end of the legs tied in a knot. I couldn’t even start to explain.