It's been a strange day today. Drove 60 miles to Bloxwich in the West Midlands to bury a mate, aged 59, who died of sepsis, a urinary tract infection, non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and Covid, as I organised his funeral and I am his executor. Blustery drive, so I was glad of the Grenadier.
Des was a butcher for one of the big supermarket chains for most of his life; I'd known him since 1978, about our only shared interest was classic cars, so we'd go to the Classic Car Show at the NEC every year, in the LR110, then the Grenadier, which he very much approved of, (at 6' 4", he was too big to fit in the Morgan or the MX5).
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It can be a bit "old school" in Bloxwich, so Des, (and his partner 3+ years ago), had the horse drawn hearse. I followed the hearse on foot from the house to the service and then with some of the congregation to the cemetary, where he was buried with his partner and step-son. There is no one left in his family, as we cremated his brother about 18 months ago.
There is a house and two cars to dispose of, with all of the proceeds to go to charity, 50% to the Midlands Air Ambulance and 50% to The Dogs Trust. There is an ownership dispute with the house and one of the cars, a 1960 Morris Minor Traveller is in small pieces over a lock-up, shed floor, walls and roof space; being executor sometimes is not simple or easy.
The 60 miles back was uneventful. if slow, with a lot of traffic on the M6, M69, M1 and A46. The highlight was being overtaken by an Inky Black Grenadier on the M6. The tailbacks made me grateful for the automatic transmission.
This evening, we fetched my son from Grantham Station, as he is back from Newcastle Upon Tyne for Christmas. Heavy rain and a strong breeze, with localised flooding made the 17 miles each way rather more fraught than usual, so the Grenadier was a more suitable steed than the other cars we have at home. The odometer is now over 30,000 miles and climbing at about 2000 miles a month.
