I know what you're thinking: what a Shi'ite idea for a blog meme.

I had an idea for a new meme blog:

(Just in case you're unaware of what I'm getting at Fail Blog)

My Nan died yesterday morning. She was eighty two. My Granddad is still alive, he is eighty three.

When I found out I was in Bristol. I had stayed at my friends place as I'd flown into Bristol Airport on my way home from a trip to the Dordogne. When I found out about my Nan I decided to get the train back to Portsmouth, to see my Mum and my Granddad and all the other assembled relatives. When I was in the train station queuing for tickets I noticed a bloke I’d met in France. I’d only met him because his Grandmother had a house near my friends Grandmother’s house and she had popped over to see my friend’s new baby with him in tow. We’d hardly met for more than ten minutes and hardly said two words to one another. He was in a different queue to me, about ten feet away. I caught his eye and we said hi to one another then I announced to him and half the ticket hall of Bristol Temple Meads train station “My Nan died last night”. He said he was sorry and moved on in the queue. I could tell he was a little put off, what more can you say? I wasn't just telling him, I was telling all those people queuing around me. He was the tool I used to shout out, my Nan's died, I'm sad.

I should just be able to shout it out walking down the road, but I haven't even been able to cry in public yet. I've cried on my own and when I went for a walk when no one could see me. It's stupid really, it's like I don't want to inflict my mourning on anyone else. Just because I'm confronted with the harsh reality of mortality why should anyone else be? Perhaps because we're all going to die so we'd better start getting used to it.

Perversely everyone is really looking forward to the funeral. A time when it is easier to openly mourn. It's socially acceptable. In fact, it's expected. The only problem is, despite my Nan having had a series of small strokes over the last year, the coroner has classified her death as sudden or unexpected and we have to wait up to seven days for the result of a medical examination. (Which will probably only take fifteen minutes and just requires the appropriate tick in a box). My Nan was Irish, in Ireland a funeral usually happens within two days. This is really hard on my Granddad especially, to him we should be having the funeral today. I've told my Mum to ring the coroner and pull the race card. They should be sensitive to our religious and cultural sensitivities, but again, we don't want to make a fuss. So until we get our tick in a box we're in a limbo that I'm calling the Tea Factory. Litres upon liters of tea has been made and drunk.

She is survived by twenty eight direct descendants: eight children, nineteen grandchildren and one great grandchild. If her descendants continue to reproduce at the same rate as the last generation, my parents, in 500 years she will have had enough descendants to fill a football stadium well over 30 thousand. In a thousand years she'll have had close to 2 million direct descendants and in 2500 years she will have had around 1.1 billion descendants, though only around 210 million of those people would still be alive in 4508, so that's alot of funerals to go to, imagine the number of cups of tea.

The Dordogne by the way was absolutely gorgeous and in stark contrast to the distinctly autumnal UK, still bristling with life. The weather was gorgeous. There were figs, walnuts and apples on the trees, the fields were full of grapes and corn. The place seemed alive. We even thought that humming birds were flitting around the Honeysuckle. It turned out they were Humming Bird Hawk moths, but who ever heard of a moth that comes out in the day and drinks nectar. I also spent alot of time with my friends baby, he's four months old. I'm really looking forward to seeing my brother's kid. He should give us hope for the future billions and remind us all that there's more to life than death.