Life is a minestrone

That was a very strange 24 hours. First of all there was the horrible drive in the dark through lightning and heavy rain and negotiating the M25 to my brother's house, then the good news that my niece had safely delivered her 9lb 1oz daughter, so bestest congratulations to Charlotte and Michael, and welcome to baby Sofia Lily. A poor night's sleep followed then we were all up bright and early to drive to my aunt A's funeral. These events are never fun, but it went as well as could be expected, and a small bird sang loudly from the silver birch at the foot of the grave as we laid her to rest, which was nice. After her wake I drove the short distance to check that my Dad's grave wasn't overgrown as it's been some time since anyone has been down in that area; I was very happy to see that it was very tidy and not at all neglected. It's hard to think it's been 25 years since he left us.

I drove very slowly past my parents' old house as I left their village, and was pleased to see that the visible changes were appropriate to a house that was appreciated; but it was difficult to drive past and not go in. When I was last there it was still Mother's home, although the sale had all been arranged and we were helping her to sort out her belongings for the move. It was a very strange feeling - not very nice.

The journey back up the A21, M25 and M40 were pretty uneventful, and just as I was heaving a sigh of relief as I approached the village a hen pheasant ran into the road. I slowed for it, but she slowed too, and then took off ... straight into the front of the car. There was a thump and a puff of feathers, but no corpse visible in the rearview mirror and an odd rhythmic flappy noise from the front. I groaned, stopped the car and got out to view the damage. I wish I'd had my camera. The car was thankfully undamaged, but the pheasant had managed to wedge her head under the dead (pun unintended) centre of the bonnet lid and was dangling directly under the KIA (how appropriate!) badge, still twitching slightly.  I knew I couldn't possibly drive all through the village like that - people would stare and point, so I had to carefully remove the corpse before I could get home and, waste not want not, prepare her for cooking.

So a very strange, stressful, tiring, emotional 24 hours. Birth, funeral and death, and memories, memories, memories.