So, just 9 days before I turn 20, I went to my first ever Funeral. A few weeks ago, just along the coast from me in Gosport, my great aunt Beatie became very ill. It turned out that she was riddled with cancer. I remember my mother listing some of the things the post-mortem had discovered. I can remember at least 5 types of cancer she listed. Some of those she had had for up to 18 months, I was told. Which is just shocking. She had problems with her leg aswell, from a few falls down the stairs.

So, my parents picked me up at about 7am yesterday (Friday). We went to the late Beatties house and prepared the food and drink for the wake. The hearse arrived just before 10.30. At that point, there was a noticable plumet in the atmosphere and emotion everyone was feeling. The service began at 11am.

It was actually a wonderful service. Many great things were said. One thing my sister said, of all people, was that Beattie filled her life with living. Which is so true. Right up until she went into hospital about 3 weeks ago, she was living it to the full. She went into town every Thursday, she went on day trips, on holidays and nothing stopped her doing it all.

I think the second most upsetting point in a cremation service, is when the curtains close. It hits you then that "That's it.". It's like a formal close to her life. Whilst they closed, I remembered some of the great times I've had with her and loads of the things we had done.

But I think the most upsetting thing in the service, at least for me, was when we left the service itself and went to look at the flowers. I could feel everyones upset and sadness. There was an overwhelming sense of third person pain. It felt so sad for me too, but at the same time I felt strangely happy. For Beattie that she had done so much with her time, and that she'd had such an amazing affect on everyones life who knew her. Thinking about it, I don't think happy is the word. But I fely something other than sadness.

At the "wake" afterwards, it was so weird to be seeing all these relatives, most of who I hadn't seen before and the rest who I haven't seen in years and years.

When I got a lift back to Southampton mid afternoon, I was obviously in a far from best mood. So, I decided that I wasn't going to cook, went to the chip shop and off liscence. After I had eaten, Big Richard, Little Richard and I watched a film.

The thing that topped of my day being crap is that Big Richard pestered and pestered to watch Not Anohter Teen Movie. One that I believe is Watch-Once because it's crap. But I categorily told him I was in no mood for shit humour films, and I really didn't want to watch it. But on he pestered. In the end, to save myself going mentally angry at him and venting all my emotion on him, I gave in and was pissed off all evening.

But of course, I didn't tell him, because I'm a kind person. But it does beg the question. Why the hell are blokes almost always deprived of sensitivity?