I had to attend a funeral yesterday. That of the mother of my oldest friend (as in that I’ve known since I was 18 months old, not some wrinkled methuselah), so I’d known her all my life too. She’d had a very brief battle with that old c*nt cancer (‘scuse my french but the bastard stole my mum too).

In the morning I popped into town to get the car washed and valeted, guessing I might be called upon to ferry folk home from the pub we’d attend after the service. According to the missus, noone wants to drive home amidst assorted trash and the smell of grass cuttings, apart from me.

Whilst waiting for the car to get cleaned I ran some errands, and passing a thrift store popped in to check out the meagre games section. Like you do. Force of habit and all that. Well, what did I spy but an opened but unpunched early copy of Carcassonne. What’s that? £3.50 ($4.60) you say? Don’t mind if I do. I thought I could give it to someone at a later date to kickstart an interest in tabletop games.

Anyway the funeral came and went. Tearful times, but a cheerfully good send off at the pub afterwards (me teetolling obviously). Sure enough I did a few taxi runs as evening came to a close.

Now, the deceased’s eldest son recently moved in with his wife just down the road from me, and I haven’t seen them for ages as they’ve lived in South Africa for years. So obviously I volunteered to give them a lift home at the end of the evening.

As we drive, we start talking games – he’s not really a “gamer”, but we’d been catching up and chatting about my games writing/reviewing. Then, quite unprompted, he mentions… Carcassonne.

Oh so you’ve played Carcassonne then?” says I.
Yeah. Great game. Love it.” comes the reply.
So have you got a copy then?” I innocently enquire.
No. Would love to. Really must pick one up at some point.

Well now, that’s handy. The perfect housewarming present.

Nice end to a sad day. Funny how things turn out.

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2 Responses

    • Guyblin

      Thank you , Jack! It definitely made an otherwise crappy day a little better.


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