When Sean saw the cake I'd made for Baz's funeral (with his image on it) he said, 'You must have found that hard to do.'
'No, not really.'
When Gareth knew I was reading at the funeral he said, 'Now don't worry if you get upset; we'll all understand.'
I said, 'I won't; I'm well 'ard.'
'Yeah, yeah, we're all hard until we're not.'
'No, really, I'm a hard cow.'
And I am. Cold-hearted. Gave up crying at funerals a long time ago.
Sometimes it's a good thing: I can read confidently without fear of breaking down. Other times I'd like nothing better than a good weep - if only to reassure myself I still have a heart.