snowy graveyard

Stuart and I took the day off work to go to the funeral of our friend Eddie Gillings, born in 1922 in Battersea, south London. He was a proper south London geezer, had a good life and a good death, and the funeral was full of people telling funny stories. Camberwell New Cemetery looked beautiful in the snow.

He and his son Bob worked at a packaging and shipment company, sending fine art and antiques all over the world (including Rodin’s marble sculpture, The Kiss, to New York, and some of my artwork to Seattle). Eddie’s life wasn’t always easy, he was wounded while fighting in the second world war in India and Burma, and on the way back, got stuck in Egypt for much longer than was planned before they could get him out, so he even spoke a bit of Arabic. His wife and his 24-year-old daughter died before him, which was very hard on him, and you can see their graves here, next to his. But he had a great attitude and a real sense of tranquility about him, like he always knew things would be okay in the end.

Rest in peace, Eddie, you were a top geezer.