Out of some really dire stuff can come moments that are funny or wondrous. I never thought I'd be having a discussion on inter-generational male violence with a senior member of a bikie gang, but there you go. We ruminated on this topic at his kitchen table for an hour or more. Or the copper, a man who I went to school with. standing outside the morgue and patting my shoulder. He always seemed too nice to be a copper and maybe that's why he is so good at it. However all I could think, as he patted my shoulder, was how I wrecked his racing bike when he lent it to me thirty five years ago. Brought it back with the gear cog all mangled and he wouldn't let me pay to get it fixed.
The funeral parlour scene, the final viewing of his body, fraught with politics, a family feud, a tiny red dress and the First Wives Club. The Mothers Us, steering ourselves away from the rather magnificent spectacle of genuine grief inside, having a smoke in the car park together. It turned into a kind of black British comedy with someone threatening to push someone else into the coffin and 'shut the lid'. Ethical me is sitting back and thinking, 'Now stop it Sarah, this is a very sad and confronting event' and Writer me is thinking, 'This is absolute gold. This is great copy.'