I hate reading 'The Obits'; but even worse is finding a good friend amongst those mentioned.
It has always been a tradition that the families of my school's fellow alumni use the pages of the UK's Daily Telegraph to announce their kin's passing. No doubt my own passing will eventually be announced there too.
As you might imagine, I can't buy the Telegraph on a daily basis here, nor do I consult their on line pages too often, but occasionally I do have reason to look at something to corroborate certain facts, and at the same time I always take a look at the obits; it's a mild obsession.
Only recently I found that my good friend, and fellow Blue Button, GB, from my city days, had died. I was reminded about him by a quote from Michael Kidson's recently published biography. Kidson wrote of him "It's like addressing a sheeted tombstone by moonlight, GB is about as lively as an inanimate centenarian". Personally I never found him thus; he was always good fun.
Anyway, I decided to 'look him up', and found that GB had died a while ago. He was two years older than me and led a very stressful city lifestyle. His father had been The Government Broker, and GB was expected to follow in the family footsteps.
In about 1965 he and I did the rounds of the 'season' together. We were told (in no uncertain terms) which city Balls we were expected to attend (these were usually held in nearby livery company buildings) and during the Summer months we both kept our dinner jackets in a cupboard at the office.
These do's were seriously, seriously, tedious; you cannot imagine! Scores of over-dressed, over painted, and over-coiffed young ladies, desperate for a suitable husband, would eye-up scores of city hopefuls who wished to marry into money and land. They were no more than expensive meat markets; I hated everything about them.
Anyway, if the father of the presented young lady was a friend, or client, of one of our partners, GB and I were forced to attend (to represent the firm), and we tried to make the best of the evenings. At least there were usually sumptuous feasts on offer.
So, I was sad to read of GB's passing, it also brought back memories of a certain period in my life that I would otherwise rather forget. However, if it hadn't been for the close friendship of GB, those evenings would have been unbearable; in fact I would have refused to attend.
I shall continue to read the obits, but I'm still hoping not to recognise any of the names!
This is not really a posting that requires comments, it's just me reminiscing.ReplyDelete
I never read them. The people I've known who are likely to make the national obits are few and far between and Scotland is such a small place that I'd probably know they were dead before they did.ReplyDelete
We're at that age Cro. I didn't see your comment because I was busy writing mine but I'd have left it anyway.Delete
As someone so succinctly said "I always check the obits just to make sure I'm not there"Delete
You'll probably have to make do with social media. That's all there'll be.ReplyDelete
Paper papers have almost had their day. Time to start filling the loft.Delete
I have woken up feeling very depressed this morning. I feel like I am living in a third world country.Delete
I've been very depressed since the election. The point-scoring nastiness from the left seems to be escalating.Delete
Its the Grenfell fire that's finally done it for me.Delete
It's 2017 syndrome; the year seems jinxed.Delete
Sounds very different to your life now.ReplyDelete
That's why I quit Kev. Too stressful, and no soul to the work.Delete
I suppose your consulting the Telegraph to corroborate certain facts is not quite as bad as using the Mail.ReplyDelete
I wouldn't trust The Guardian.Delete
I wouldn't trust any of them.Delete
And definitely not the Beeb.Delete
Private Eye's dependable!Delete
Sales are highest now for 50 years.Delete
Always sad when a friend dies but even more sad when a soul mate dies. I am just beginning to come to terms with it all.ReplyDelete
It takes a long time; as it should.Delete
I was going to say something nasty about the aristocracy, instead I say sorry for your loss of a friend.ReplyDelete
I suppose some of them were aristo's, but I never bothered about such things; not interested.Delete
I was talking to GF about dying the other day ( he of the antique expertise) "I want my obit in the Telegraph" he says "Okay" says I " I look in it every night to see if anyone I know has died" I continue. If he wasn't such a gent his look would have been more withering. I was thinking of the "Derby Evening Telegraph" !ReplyDelete
I'm sure their obits carry the same weight; just different locations.Delete
As rachel put most thoughtfully on one of my most moving posts recentlyReplyDelete
" thats life"
And i guess she's right....