Go As You Please

My uncle lost his battle with cancer recently, so family and friends gathered to celebrate.

Not his untimely death at 66, but the life of a fell-running, music-loving free spirit.

The day dawned with sunshine and clear skies. Two of my brothers*, my niece and I headed for Whitley Bay.

The funeral was organised by appropriately named Go As You Please.

The day was a genuine celebration of his life, rather than the mourning of his passing. His fellow members of 10th Avenue Band played, as we walked and danced from the sea front to the crematorium, flanked by the permanent and conformist reminders of the more usual face of death.



The band were dressed in their signature black and white costumes; ostrich feathers, hats, polka dots, checks and stripes making the monochrome display anything but sombre. My uncle himself would have probably worn an outrageous black and white kaftan, had he been walking and playing his flute or tenor saxophone, instead of being carried behind by his children.

The simple coffin was vibrant with flowers from his garden, woven into the wicker with ivy, by the family that morning.

Inside the building, his photographs watched us from the walls as one by one, friends and relatives stood up to share stories and memories. The building resonated with laughter and smiles and love.

As we left, Carl from Go As You Please, showed us the photographs they had taken of the procession - already printed out on sheets, to the delight of the family.

We proceeded to the wake to hear both 10th Avenue and later, one of his other bands - the Cradlewell Jazz Band - perform. We drank, ate, looked at countless pictures and news clippings, and shared more stories and tributes.

He would have loved it.




*sister in china and the ginger one - for interested commenters