The hospice in which my mother was dying was in the grounds of Gritten Hospital. It seemed a slightly melancholy arrangement to me. On the long drive cross-country, I had wondered why they didn’t go for the hat-trick and install a cemetery and a conveyer belt while they were at it.
My Dad was head orderly at a hospital we both worked at, so he knew all the funeral directors etc etc and told me he had picked out the one he wanted for himself, but when he did die he was living somewhere else, gee that sounds weird & a 1/2 but it’s accurate in both ways!
