Leaving is never easy. Leaving a place where you have been really happy is not easy at all. For the past few weeks I’ve been going round all the housebound people to say goodbye and there have been tears and good memories. Last night we had a leaving party at St Mark’s.
Paul picked me up (so that I could have a wee drinkie) and when we arrived there was Caroline at the door with a glass of something white and chilled telling me that she had been appointed to look after me. Then as I moved into the church the sound of clapping rather took me aback and in fact it was a few moments before I recognised all these people. Why did I not recognise my own little flock? Because most of them were wearing purple wigs! Or purple clothes. Or purple dyed hair. Or purple make-up. What joy!
Bridget and Lawrence treated us to some fiddle music, and later I think I remember some Glee numbers. The girls did a pom-pom (aka discarded wigs) dance routine for me. The wine flowed, the buffet fed us, and we blethered and blethered. Nicola gave the most amazing speech and tried to convince me that when she had looked up ‘people who love purple’ in Google it had told her they were ‘people who liked to be in control and the centre of attention’. (I think she made that bit up.) And I was presented with a Peter Howson print of the Last Supper which I love. (Judging by some of the faces, it was not to everyone’s taste!)
It was such a fun night and I will miss this little flock so much. Two more Sundays to go before I make my curtain call…