Its official.

I'm calling it. 9am on a saturday is too early for a meeting in Manchester. When it's just you and the skag-eads in a city train station you know it's too early.

Rita

Tomorrow is going to be strange.

In the morning it Rita's funeral and in the evening it's Maz's
birthday which is going to be a very strange dichotomy.

Rita was my Gran's sister who,
never having kids of her own, seemed to act as a back-up Nan to every
generation of the Schwarz Clan. Every surface of her homely kitchen was
covered in family photos of kids that all knew her as Auntie Rita. Her
cottage up on the hill above Holywell was always warm and welcoming and
though quite old fashioned she did have the wicked sense of humour that
seems to be prevalent in the Family. She was an avid Golfer until her
health failed and I always thought it was sweet that she never gave up
on me picking up the clubs more seriously.

When I was growing up My Gran's two sisters, Rita and Hilda, and
Brother Philip never had kids of their own and so became our extra
grandparents. Christmas was always a chance for the whole family to get
together and swap bad jokes with each other.

Philip owned a combined Jewellers and toyshop. An odd combination I
know, but we always got interesting gifts from him. He was always
kidding around with the kids pretending to be gruff and uncaring but
secretly I think he loved the attention. He always had odd sayings like
"Those that ask can't have and those that don't ask don't want."

Hilda was married to Bill and made the most amazing birthday cakes. I
always remember her as a Miss Twiggywinkle person, bustling and happy
always cooking and creating we had massive parties at her house where
she'd do enormous banquets always followed off with at least three
puddings. She had the sweetest tooth I think I've ever known on a
person and it made her cakes sinful. Her husband Bill was always very
quiet and softly spoken but I always remember him with a big grin on
his face. I remember he was a maths tutor and served in the Navy in the
Second World War on HMS Enterprise. I have a picture of his ship on my
wall at home.

My Gran, Marie, raised three kids on her own, with of course the help
of the rest of the family. She and my sister seemed to have a really
special bond but she was the most moral person I know. She always knew
what was right but didn't beat you over the head with it. She was a
very special person and her Catholic faith was a source of strength
that sadly I can't emanate.

Rita was the last of that generation. A whole swathe of my family who
have always, ALWAYS been there for as long as I can remember exist now
only in my memories.