The old fella had a phone call from the funeral directors the other week asking what he wanted to do with the ashes of his wife. His, dead wife that is for you new readers !!!!

Now, this begs the question, where the foook have they been? It's been over seven months. Is there a room full of urns. Rows and rows of urns floor to ceiling stretching out into the horizon or have they just got the one? A solitary urn sitting on some foookers mantle piece collecting dust (I'm sure my old dear had put on weight when they emptied her!!!!) or was it being used as an ashtray!!? Do they wipe it down if someone else decides to get cremated is this how they discovered the dust like remains of my mother?

I must admit the old man was a bit upset. He thought it was all done and dusted (?!!) as it were. So this was a bit of a kick in the gnads for him. He phoned me whilst I was at work and told the missus, who in turn relayed the message.

When I got home around 20:00 on the Sunday I returned his call, to see if he was OK. He was. We then arranged to scatter the ashes and although he said you don't have to come I think he would have been a little pissed if I didn't turn up. Pay the last respects - again type thing. as we spoke he told me he had invited a couple of her sisters and a cousin. Fook me a jolly boys outing.

We were unable to arrange it for the Wednesday I was off, something to do with not being able to arrange transport - I did offer to collect her on the bus but they weren't interested, I also said they could post them - but again not interested. So we set it for the following week. Which was a bit of a pisser really - the kids were down her parents and I was off this week, but - it couldn't be arranged, so, next week it was. I told him it had better not be windy, don't want to be covered in her ashes.

What do you wear top a scattering? Do you go all formal is it casual dress - foooking a clowns outfit?? Never been before, well that's a bit of a lie, my mate scattered his grandads ashes in Magaluf once and the wind changed just as he done the scattering and he swallowed half the foooking urn - I pissed my panties !!!!

I opted for a dark suit and blue shirt a bit smart a bit casual - smasual I think it's called!!!! Me, the missus and the kids arrived at the cemetery about 10:10 the kick off was 10:30. It was a nice place, full of headstones (not sure what I was expecting - a Ferris wheel perhaps!!!) and it was dead peaceful (had to get at least one pun in don't ya!!!) it really was nice - the one on the other side of town is a bit modern and sparse but this was like an old black and white horror film set - spooky but spooky nice.

As we waited and waited and waited - I thought we might be in the wrong place, or got the wrong time so I phoned the old man. Stuck in traffic, there was a bad accident 2 cars has twatted each other and it went all Pete Tong, fair shout he arrived before kick off. My aunt was with him, she's a stuck up foooking bint. But she's alright you just have to take her in small doses. An example of how nobbish she is - were stood in the cemetery, just about to scatter the ashes of my dead mother and she's asking my missus, who she met breifly for the first, at the old dears funeral, about the cost of my house!!!! She's asking how much it's worth and are we decorating - I was told this afterwards.

Dad goes to find the fella who's doing the business. Sign paperwork or whatever it is you do before you can scatter them. When he comes out of the office a little old man is showing him the way, he's dressed in a blue shop keepers coat, the fella not the old man!!! Under his arm is a plastic - a foooking plastic brown urn. I was expecting a foooking proper fooking urn, brass at least but fooking plastic - just not cricket!!! He was also twirling his spade, like a fooking Majorette.

Whilst the old man and this Hurberts coming up, my aunt - her names Liz by the way is phoning mums other sister who's also my aunt to find out where she is. Stuck in traffic. This is slowly turning into a farce, Herbert and Dads fooked off down this little path expecting us all to follow. Liz is staying up the top to met her sister who's name is Kate. Phew you still with me? I decide to follow the old man and Hurbert. Liz asks if we can prospone it until Kate and crew have arrived. I must point out at this time I didn't want them there in the first place, but it was mums sisters and all that jazz so.......

I tell the old man that there's a slight delay. He and Hurbert are talking like best buddies ~(later find out from the old man a coffin costs the funeral directors £45 - they sale it for ten times that!!!!!) We wait for about 15 minuets for the others to show and when they do fooook me it's enmasse, it looks a bit like the sceen from Monsters Inc, when the monsters go into the scare room. There's fooking hundreds of them - well at least 5. Kates dressed in a woolly jumper - a brown woolly jumper and this foooking idiot called Tracey, she's some sort of relation from up north, which explains a lot, fuck me she didn't even brush her hair - ginger hair, curly hair shooting out at all angles springy strands of grey hair mixed in with ginger hair. And would a bit of slap on her mush killed her (sorry - translation a bit of make up on her face killed her?) - oh I think not - fooking hell she looked worst than some of the poor bastards that were permanent residents. And too be honest she ain't that pretty to start with. She's also brought her, which I found out a lot later, daughter Kimberly. Fooking Kimberly - my mate Kimmmmerblay.

I look at the missus who in turn looks at the old fella and fook me what a rag bag bunch of tossers they look!!!! Hurbert leads the way then we follow. We come upon a little flower bed and Hurbie digs a hole. He then asks if anyone wants to scatter them - which we all decline. Then he pops the lid and pours. Then fills the hole and fooks off.

We stood for a couple of minuets, then some more then more minuets passed - foooking hell I'm getting bored...... A few more fook this I'm off. I chat quickly to the old fella and I'm gone - not because I'm upset but I thought he might like to be alone and to be honest no foooker was chatting and stood in a cemetery ain't my idea of fun.

All I can see it was something and nothing - I just hope this will be the last time I have to bury her - lets hope this time she stays down!!!!

RIP Mam x

I have hippies growing at the bottom of my garden !!!! No lies.

I never chose to have hippies growing at the bottom of my garden, but if I did, it would be fully fledged hippies - you know the sort smells like a jitter - wears jitter juice. Always dangling a raggy (raggy = roll up) outta their mouths. Long hair, maybe in a dreadlocks type of style, in a ponytail and baggy clothes in fact there was a hippie in the other street. He was much nicer - dreadlocks, green woolly jumper with holes in and wore baggy trousers he smelt like weed, not like he wee'd but like weed, he looked the real McCoy. Unlike my hippie. Who has a shaved head, and a twitch. I should have grabbed him whilst I had the chance his van was much nicer as well. I think we could have become friends.

Sadly the hippie we have is living in an old grey BT van at the bottom of the garden he has a mate with him. I think she's female - wears long green skirts and boots, she has a piercing in her nose. To be honest haven't paid much attention to them - I thought I'd let them settle in before taking an interest you know the sort of thing, pretend I haven't noticed them. But stare at them through the bedroom window.

I think these particular hippies (what's the name for them is it pride, herd, school or bunch?) twosome are nocturnal. Every night I hear him skittering about his van. I've peeked outta the bedroom wind to watch him. It's fascinating he scurries here and there poking and prodding his van then he jumps in and revs for about half an hour then reverses his hippiemobile to inches of other cars. Whilst this is going on hippietta is out the back trying to coax him back. Then he looks around like a fooking Merkatt then fooks off back inside the van to smoke grass or whatever hippies do in an old BT van.

We've decided to call him Ernie and the female Eric. I thought we'd call them Sky and Rainbow but everyone said that would be confusing - and rather gay.

Eric is a strange creature when she's not giving driving directions she hugs herself. She has the raggy fixed in her hand. in fact I've never seen her smoke it. And she has a million silver rings on her fingers. I heard her speak the other day - and fook me she's posh all "yes, gosh, what what" and all that bollocks. Took me by surprise it did. So we have posh well to do hippies living in an old beat up BT van. Still not my type of hippie though.

The local kids have started to feed them as well, which is a bit wrong. You can't domesticate these hippies they're wild creatures. They've started to put lentils down for them. Nothing too much just a little scattering here and there mainly on their van but some in the middle of the road. It's like watching a Road runner cartoon, the hippies come out, beep beep, start pecking at the seeds, beep beep. Then they spy a whole pile of them, beep beep. They stand around pecking. Then a car comes and beep beep the hippies are off......

Well if you're ever passing my house and fell like poking some hippies with sticks stop by - they don't mind.... Beep beep.....