That time I went to the wrong funeral

My friend Kirsty died on 17th December 2012 of cancer, she was 41.  The funeral was on 2nd January 2013.

The funeral arrangements were put up on Facebook, as I don’t do the Facebook thing I relied on my very good friend Matt to relay the relevant information to me.

Originally I was told that there would be a service at 2pm at the Crematorium in Macclesfield followed by a reception at Tytherington Club at 2:30.

Prior to me leaving to go to Macc yesterday I checked my email, and got this..

“Hey up mate.

I got the times a little wrong, the 2pm at Macc cemetery is for family only.

It’ll be 2.30 at the Tythy club.

I mentioned Kirsty’s wishes re dress code, here they are…

“Kirsty would be happy for people to wear a splash of colour beyond

the all-black ensemble”, as she said:

“…after all the world is full of colour”.

“My favourite colour is blue, the colour blue you have on a hot

summer’s day. Perhaps people could accessorise with something blue?




So that’s no problem, I set off.  When I’m driving I always put my phone on silent then I’m not distracted by it, that people is called responsible motoring.

When I arrived in Macc at about 12:50 I parked by a hole in the wall as I needed some cash, after getting it I noticed that I had a missed call from Matt and a voice message, I listened and a very apologetic Matt advised that he had given me duff information and that everyone was welcome to go to the service but it was at 1pm at Macc Crematorium, great, although it would be tight I had time to get there, so off I went.

I arrived at the Crematorium and saw people going in so I parked the Benz, and legged it back to the building; I was the last person in, resplendent in my suit and summer blue tie.

As the chapel was full, myself and the other 6 people who were last in were directed to choir’s seating at the front which is at 90 degrees to the rest of the seating and in full view of everyone else.

Just as I got settled we were asked to stand up and sing “All Things Bright And Beautiful”, which dutifully I did, it was only when we sat down and the priest said:

“Dear Dorothy, Mother, Grandmother, who died at 87…”  I looked around and didn’t recognise a single person there.

Yes, I was at the wrong funeral service.

As I couldn’t just up and leave, I sat through the service, mostly being self conscious about my bright blue tie, feeling that people were looking at me quizzically.

As people were filing out there was a greeting line for the family so I shook all the hands, muttered my commiserations and thanked the priest for a lovely service.

Dorothy, I apologise for gate-crashing your funeral, but on the upside it brightened up my day.