Dreams

Everyone, they say, has dreams. The random firing of electrical pulses across the synapses of the sleeping brain being interpreted into pictures and stories. The Gorse Fox's grandfather was a feature of lastnight's kaleidoscope of neural activity.

Said grandfather was a cheerful, devout man, steeped in tradition and fixed in his ways (right down to the items he would eat each day of the week). In last night's fantasy the Gorse Fox was at said grandfather's funeral (which was held at the wrong church). We left the church to receive the condolences of the congregation. (Being British, they were of course standing in an orderly queue).

At the end of this line of mourners was a small horse and small pony (both light brown in hue) with Post-it notes on their flanks identifying them as "horse" and "pony". I was at first alarmed (you would be wouldn't you). I was not aware of any great affinity between grandpa and the animals.

Following these equine mourners was an animal with the face and fleece of a sheep, but no apparent legs. Again, a "post-it" note shed light on its species. It was (of course) a woolly seal.

And so the line of animals continued with three of four more specimens which I have forgotten. (I apologize if any of you are reading this blog).

Finally, the tail-end (well they are animals) brought a traditional seal, with no "post-it" note.

Several thoughts occur:

• It's nice to think that grandpa was so well thought of in the animal kingdom


• It was nice of them to wear identifying post-it notes


• Why were we at the wrong chuch? (Incidentally, it was the church where the Gorse Fox married the Silver Vixen).


• Would a woolly-seal give waterproof jumpers?


• Did we have enough cars for them to come to the cemetary, or did they make their own way?


• What did the GF eat last night? Is it available on prescription?