I found this lone Californian Poppy yesterday. He was growing in an inhospitable space. Caught between Tarmac and an old concrete wall. A brutal, liminal space for something as fragile as a poppy.

My head was in a bit of a liminal space at the time, as I was fresh from attending a London work colleague’s online funeral. Always sad affairs funerals are moments to pause and reflect.

One of my ponderings in that reflective space was when we had last met and last communicated.

I’ve just about nailed down the last meeting which was by accident in a gloriously beautiful old pub in Marylebone in London. Close to where we had worked together.

Our last, long, on-line natter was four years ago when we discussed this cookbook.

Both about 4 years ago.

In that time we have had occasional exchanges on Facebook, but essentially we had lost touch. Which is the nature of work relationships. And a measure of my sorrow yesterday.  I’ve not lost a huge relationship, but one of those small complicated mosaic pieces that make up life’s rich pattern.

Obviously, yesterday, so many people in the room at the Crematorium had lost a much bigger piece of their lives.

Although,in truth, a good description of her is, small and complicated.

What was not small or complicated was the massive amount of love in the room. Visible because family and friends ran the whole service. No religion or non-religious celebrant. Just swirling love. Fabulous.

Great music too.

Into My Arms https://g.co/kgs/5hiKQgc