Adrian's Funeral

Gordon and I talked through our plans for Adrian's funeral at some length on Friday morning. I think we talked for so long more because we were enjoying the whole process than because we had a huge amount of stuff to sort out. It felt delightfully conspiratorial.

The ceremony itself was smooth and seamless. There was one mourner with a hearing problem, but she had assured Barbara that she could lip-read, so she was given a seat in the front row. Gordon and I stood one each side of Adrian's coffin which was dressed with a glorious spray of yellow spring flowers.

I introduced the ceremony, and explained that I was there to reflect Adrian's belief system and that of anyone else who shared his views. Then I introduced Gordon, who spoke of his wish to support Barbara and any other religious people present, whatever their denomination. He explained that we'd worked together to prepare the ceremony, and that we'd continue to work together throughout – 'and we're trying to be more like Charles and Camilla than Blackadder and Baldrick,' he said, which made everyone laugh, including me.

And we continued in the same vein all the way through. We each did a reading; we each reflected on the meaning of life and death; we each did part of the tribute. I did the chronological bit: school, work, family roll-call, hobbies and interests; then Gordon coloured it in with a lively description of Adrian's personality and habits. We had a silent time for people to think, pray or remember; then Gordon said some prayers, and I read a poem. The song was sung; we each did part of the committal; then Gordon said some more prayers and I closed the service.

We both did the handshaking bit, then when everyone was heading away from us towards the flower terrace, Gordon engulfed me in a huge bearhug.

'Zinnia, you're a complete treasure,' he said. 'I've loved doing this work with you. I've learned so much, not least what a lonely working life mine often is.'

'I know what you mean,' I said. 'It's a solitary business we're in, for all that we're working with families a lot of the time. And of course you do other stuff as well, as do I, but it can be very lonely.'

'Do you think there are other families who'd like this kind of service?' he asked. 'Shall we set up in business?' His brown eyes twinkled down at me.

'I'm not sure how much of a market there would be – but if anyone ever gets in touch with me and asks if I know a tame vicar who'd be up for doing a double-act, I'll be straight on the phone to you.'

'Tame, eh? Grrrrr!' He faked a leonine roar. 'I'm not all that tame, you know! But I feel the same, if I ever meet another family in this situation, I'd like to get back in touch with you. Would that be OK?'

'It would be absolutely fine. Any time.'

And I meant it, too.