Words of respect and dignity honoured Adrian

The Strand, Exmouth, with war memorial in the foreground

Tomorrow will bring faces to smile at, cheery ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’, as I walk to The Strand - Credit: Archant

Hunkered down, still and quiet, tsunami of doom and gloom from all sides, glimmers as if fireflies were partying soon snubbed by Covid-policed strangers.

Strange words to be writing sitting centrally heated, but this is mid pandemic 2021.

Many will earnestly chronicle the histories of these days as they stretched and twisted from weeks into months, many feel stretched and twisted, many... are dead.

Mr Snuggles is dead, I went to his funeral, I was present as his family and friends listened to the words of respect and dignity that honoured Adrian.

Then, to the steady toll of the town crier’s bell, all sent their lighter-than-air balloons up into the heavens.

Far away from the safe sands of Exmouth far to the east of Istanbul, I have seen opened coffin on sobbing Muslim shoulders as the village of tiny steep streets held their own funeral.

No balloon release of emotions but the stretched and twisted faces of those left to remember. Mrs Snuggles, your loss marked your face thus.

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No fresh air has graced my face today, I’ve not ventured from the centre of my lockdown since porridge!

But I’m not going to join the ranks of the despondent. Tomorrow will bring faces to smile at, cheery ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’, and the agile sideways scoot as I practise pooch avoidance walking to The Strand for distanced morning oatmeal cappuccino!

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