I got my actual diary out to help me write this. It shows with tracking clarity that the first half of the week happened in a different historical era. I was visiting my kids in London and the really big news was that we saw Ed Miliband getting out of the Hampstead men’s pond in his Speedos. It says here “unexpectedly ripped”. That’s his body I think, not the Speedos. My son hosted Sunday lunch in his lovely, spacious kitchen. The day we told my mum she only had a few days to live – we were answering her question “Am I toast?” – her first response was, “Does this mean I’m not going to see the new kitchen?” I never step into it without her making me laugh from beyond the grave.
On the Tuesday (6 September) I set out to attend the funeral of Patti Lomax, wife of Eric Lomax, author of the classic war memoir The Railway Man. Eric was a railway enthusiast. The first time I went to visit him I mentioned that I’d had to start my journey in Burscough in rural Lancashire. Without a blink he recited the list of connections I’d had to make to get to his home in Berwick-upon-Tweed. “So… Salford Crescent, Manchester Piccadilly and York.”
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