Coming shortly, watch this space..Pat

You mentioned it first. Anyway, it was a wash-out. Couldn't have rained heavier so I stayed in the car. Lots of other didn't and I'm sure they'll go straight to Heaven.

Just in case anyone doesn't know what Cemetery Sunday is. It is a lovely custom here when, on one day a year, in June, people visit their loved ones graves. In the weeks beforehand relatives come and tidy up the graves. I have seen bleach, soda crystals, jeyes fluid, paint, buckets of steaming water being carried into the cemetery to make sure everything is, here I go again, **** and span. Neat and tidy, in other words computer. (stupid). Then, on the day before or even on the day, flowers or plants, even window boxes I noticed on Saturday are brought and the graves made as beautiful as possible. The whole cemetery becomes a mass of colour. On the Sunday, people visit, stand at their own particular graves, a mixed crowd I might add, prayers are said and the graves are blessed. It's lovely.

However, yesterday, my daughter, hubby and myself went up. Parked in the car park. Just then the heavens opened. We were early so decided to wait until the "heavy shower" passed. Lots of other people had the same idea. Well, we waited and waited but the rain bucketed down. At about 5 mins before the ceremony commenced, I decided that my mother and father would definitely not have wanted me to walk to the cemetery and "get my end" in that rain. So my hubby and I said we would stay in the car and say a few prayers there. We had been up the previous day and arranged the 3 graves which we look after. However, my daughter insisted on going to the cemetery rain or no' and, as I said, a lot of other people did too. They were soaked to the skins. But it just shows how caring people are about their dead. It's a great custom and we usually get a beautiful day. Then it's like a social outing, meeting all your old friends (thankfully alive)and having chats with the familiar faces. I missed that yesterday. Just thought you'd like to know and, yes, I know I blether on so excuse me. My mother was a bletherer too. My father was quiet.