Maggi and I have been friends for almost 50 years since she moved to live just up the road from us. When we were teenagers and my mum had a brain haemorrhage it was Maggi who sat with me as we waited for news. Auntie Gay set us polishing the silver cutlery (which wasn't even silver) and we sat there quietly together, Maggi being a friend and support.
Our lives followed very different paths and now, in spite of living only a couple of miles apart, we see each other maybe once or twice a year. But when we do it's as if it were yesterday we last met.
It was good to be at the funeral today although I'd only seen Mrs T on rare occasions over the last few years. The church was packed, a tribute to her and her four daughters, and the words the vicar read about her were lovely. Not overwhelmingly sweet and unreal like the last funeral I attended but you knew from what was said that this was a good woman.