I got up in plenty of time and dressed in black clothes for the funeral. I have so much black, it was not at all a strange thing to do. The day was very bright and sunny, almost blindingly bright, and several people commented on it. How much worse things would have been had it been raining.

Greg had managed to make contact with the minister of mum and dad's church. He remembered them both, and agreed to conduct the service. One of the elders of the church had asked to say a few words about dad (ironically, this is the man who once wiped out all the speed-dial numbers in dadd's phone and left him sithout his lifeline for a couple of days). A half-dozen of the congregation wanted to attend, too. So, there were about twenty of us there altogether.

The crematorium is a big place with four chapels, all operating in parallel. Some thirty funerals were scheduled for today. I was struck by the informality of the gatherings for other funerals; many of them looked like random collections of individuals, with no concession to mourning. This seemed unsatisfactory to me, and I was curiously gratified to see that, with the exception of the old people from the church, our group looked decorous and dignified.

It is always interesting to hear how others see your immediate family. Dad, it seems, was considered a bit of a racontuer, a bit of a maverick, a character, a nice bloke. We heard a little of dad's tales from his operations around Asia - sitting in a Beirut hotel listing to the gunfights taking place outside, being stabbed in the Philippines, having a gun waved at him in some other forlorn corner of the world. We've heard these tales dozens of times and they seem commonplace to us. They are not, however.

A few of Greg's friends were there too - people who I have known for decades, and who knew dad. It is true what they say, that your presence at a funeral is deeply appreciated by those who are closer to the deceased.

For a wake we ferried ourselves back to Greg's place again and spent the next few hours together there. It began sombrely, but slowly warmed up, despite the fact that those who had travelled half-way around the world were slowly winding down with jet-lag. I left in mid afternoon and battled the rush-hour traffic and low sunlight on the way home. I had stayed up late last night. it was time to catch up on sleep. Arriving at 5 pm, I went to bed and slept for three hours.