We were taken for a ride ...that went exactly nowhere

OK. I have to confess, I had given up. This newsletter almost didn't happen. I mean, what's left to say? And then a client (and loyal reader), emailing me on a business matter, wrote "PS I'm looking forward to your weekly blog especially given the events of the past week ..."

The Mother of all After Parties

I assume she was referring to my dad's funeral and the afterparty that followed. You must have heard that trite phrase, much loved by coaches, "Who will be at your funeral and what will they say ..." well, my dad certainly would have been thrilled.

He was never a church goer but a few weeks before he died, he decided that he wanted a church funeral. There was no way he was going to miss out on any pomp & ceremony. The church was rammed. The poor vicar couldn't believe it. He spent the first five minutes telling everyone they'd be very welcome should they ever choose to return. I suspect he was rather disappointed that the collection at the end of the service was on behalf of my dad's chosen charity - the local rugby club.

He also clearly knew little about my dad as he read a passage from the bible about love and said you could substitute "love" for "Geoff", as in "Geoff was never boastful", "Geoff, was never self serving", "Geoff was patient". Utter bunkum. He was quite the opposite but always in service of his passion which, as you know, was the local rugby club.

Needless to say, there were even more people at the after party at you know where. (I think after party is more appropriate than "wake" don't you?)

My own contribution

I was supposed to say a poem during the service. It's called "An Indian Prayer" and only has about 12 lines but the opening line is "When I am dead ..." and try as I might, I just couldn't get to the end of that first line without breaking into tears. My brother and mum managed their own, personalised and self written poems, but I had to hand over responsibility to my son.

However, I did make it up to him. Later on in the rugby club, a small corner began the inevitable rendition of rugby songs and I led them in a round of "We're climbing up sunshine mountain" which involves standing on a chair and pretending to climb an imaginary ladder, then pointing at the next person who has to join you.

A friend captured this on video but I will NOT be sharing this with anyone, that is unless you can promise me a VERY large donation to that charity I mentioned.

I know, I know

Whilst I was deep in mourning, the rest of the country was deep in .... well, what? Disbelief? Shit? Goodness only knows. And we, apparently, face the potential return of Boris Johnson.

Some wags have commented that it's a bit like the shower scene in Dallas, when Pam woke up to find Bobby in the bathroom - the last six months being but a dream. Except that not very much happened in those intervening episodes, whereas Liz & her cronies manage to have trashed the economy, including delivering

• a drop in the value of the pound;
• an increase in interest rates; and
• a decrease in Moody's UK rating to negative.

Still, to be fair, she did say "I will deliver, I will deliver, I will deliver".

Meanwhile in the real world

This week saw the publications of a seven year inquiry into child sexual abuse in England and Wales. Which received about 3 minutes TV coverage and 3 column inches in the papers, due to the nonsense going on in Westminster. Someone should be ashamed of themselves.

Contrition and Shame

I actually thought someone was being contrite last week, when I saw "veteran Tory MP" Charles Walker on the news saying he was "livid " about what was happening. But then he went on to explain his concerns for all his fellow Tory MPs who would be worrying about their jobs and how they'd pay their mortgages.

Bad move, Charlie. Don't think you've quite got the mood of the country there.

Looking on the Bright Side

Life does go on. Our media is over-obsessed with what's going on in Westminster and that provides a falsified picture of what's actually happening in the world. In an attempt to address the balance, I'm bringing back the fashion column

Green is the New Black

As you know, my dad banned black at his funeral. It really made such a difference. Everyone said it felt like they were getting ready for a wedding, not a funeral, and although the tears poured there was also a mood of celebration of a life.

I read this week the the fashion editors have decreed that "Black is back". Well, not here. I'm going with green. Bought this jumper recently and it makes me feel very jolly every time I wear it. I also have a very nice bright green, triangular shaped bag which is remarkably practical but I'm not showing you a picture of that because I suspect it was a little pricey (it was a present but I can tell by the label).

Forget black, I recommend green.

Something Else that is Not Back

Boris.

I'm going to stick my neck out here and may well be proved wrong in a matter of hours. He won't stand. Here's my rationale

• He's a liar and so are his so called "supporters" who claim he has 100 names
• He won't want to pick up the mess
• He knows he would lose with MPs and that even if the loons in the party membership back him, governing would be impossible

I'm watching: Somewhere Boy. It's beautiful, touching, funny, different.

I'm reading: Bear Town by Fredrik Backman. Not started it yet but he wrote A Man Called Ove which I loved.

I'm listening to: Today, the World at One, Newscast, The News Agents. I'm a sad, addicted news junky

I'm going to: Miami. Yes, despite my ￡￡￡￡￡ being worth pretty much the same as $$$$$ I decided that I wasn't going to let Liz & chums ruin my last every October half term break.

Looking forward to reading/hearing the real news later.