I am not given to gleeful spotting of celebrities but you could not help noticing that Gordon Brown arrived with his missus and indeed, read the lesson. Lots of people one had seen on TV, lots of faces one knew by sight but could not put a name to. And a lot of laughter throughout the service which interestingly, on the cover of the order of service had Cle's photo - less lugubrious than usual - his date of birth and instead of the usual date of his death, it said 'Best by 15.4.2009' His own touch.
Hailed a taxi in Fleet Street to take me to the ensuing reception, if that's what you call it, on the other side of town and was immediately asked by the taxi driver whether I had been to the funeral. He made it sound like it was the only funeral in town that day! For the next few minutes, he was quizzing me about my connection with the dear departed, how I was related, at whose house the reception was etc. That's fame indeed.
What I did not tell him was that my fondest memory of Cle, who could be and often was exrtremely rude and cutting, was that when I was in my teens and living in rural Essex and took the train to town to go to the dentist, Cle used to meet me at Liverpool Street Station and apart from the dentist, we would spend the day together, always starting off at a milk bar, going on to play pinball machines in an amusement arcade and ending up at a news cinema in Oxford Street. Those were the days where such pleasures a) existed and b) were innocent.
The reception was great. The jazz band played again and the food was what Cle had planned for his birthday celebration and it actually was his birthday.
There's no doubt that he would have loved his funeral.
There's no doubt that he would have loved his funeral.
