My great aunt Gwendoline died on Saturday after a long illness and deep dementia. It was sad to see her like that and I only visited her once in the "home" because it felt so aweful to not have her recognise me. Of course, there is all the associated guilt that goes with that but I know she was cared for by her son. She hasn't been there in my life for a few years now but the funeral was sad.

I realised today that the way you face when you're buried depends entirely on the pall-bearers. Whichever way they pick you up and walk to the grave is the way you face when they bury you. Pretty arbitrary really for an eternal resting place isn't it?

We buried her today. As the professor would say: Mersh.