A different kind of potting
Nearly lost my father’s ashes in the building chaos. He came back from France(50% of him) in an old honey-jar 5 years ago and somehow went missing. I’d almost given him up when I found the jar in amongst the paint solvents in the outside shed.
He’s back on the mantlepiece awaiting imminent sea-burial in the open Atlantic – where he’ll eventually join up,in an oceanic sort of way, with the other half of his ashes scattered in the mediterranean.
full fathom five my pa will lie
