A funeral in Norwood


I once went to a funeral in Norwood

of the neighbour opposite

A widower who fought in the Korean War,

lent me a book on Darwin

as well as The Origin of Species.

The vicar told the one about going to another room

And I espied in my mind's eye

the pale lime green shiney embossed wall-paper interior

A water colour of a boat on the sea hanging forlornly on the wall

Roy had had stomach pains for a while

Try peppermint tea I suggested

In my new father's alternative wisdom

Nothing will shift it he says a month later

It's cancer he politely tells us a few days after.

His son, a nomadic young man, comes to stay

When his father dies we hope he will remain.


Take on the house

but he doesn't want the bother

doesn't want the legacy

the what's its name? the responsibility.

Is that how we do it then?

Tell ourselves we have a responsibility to suffer?

hello Mr Burden 

I'm your responsible adult

Roy's just gone to another room

says the vicar

forgetting that the whole concept of rooms and houses

is a kind of death sentence.

A cell now that's a living thing

But a room?

That's Sickert's Ennui right there

After all rooms have light bulbs

That need changing.


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