Saturday, 9 February 2008
Yesterday there was a funeral in this town for the brother of a friend of mine, a local identity who had contributed in many ways to the community and was much loved. It was very well attended, with the streets near the church so packed with the cars of those attending, that getting past was difficult. As I crept past, I was struck again by the difference in country and town vehicles - there were a few newish smart cars, but most were dusty older models, light trucks, dirty farm utes, some with pumps or generators still on the back, and handful of those "beaut utes" covered with spotlights and antenna, favoured by the younger blokes. Certainly nothing like the cars one would see parked outside a funeral director's place in Melbourne. Not for this man a quiet morning tea at the Mechanics Hall, following the service, where sombre friends and relatives could compare memories while munching on home made sandwiches and cake - they all adjourned to the Pig - a local pub, well known for its good food and Irish music, where a grand wake was held in his honour.