Life has been a tad dull since I returned from Florida – reclaiming my garden from an army of slugs has been a priority – and finding the will to get back to work.
Day 1 back at the shop and I was advised to keep a low profile along with everyone else. A gypsy funeral was to take place in the village and they are known to become somewhat volatile should one not show due respect.
Despite the advice I couldn’t resist. So lurking behind hedges and lamp posts I followed the proceedings from a distance. Not great photographs but better than nothing. They did spot me eventually and took umbrage but I yelled ‘sorry’ and sprinted back down the High street to take refuge in the shop loo. And survived.
I am learning about these very secretive people. I have yet to meet a single person who has a good word to say for them. A friend says she can always spot a male gypsy – they wear very expensive shoes and use loads of polish. Landlords close their pubs when there is to be a funeral. I didn’t believe this and checked – absolutely true. Another friend told me that they inevitably use a fake name when booking funerals, weddings etc. If the truth emerges, it’s not uncommon for the chosen venue to cancel the booking – even a day before the event. These folk are …. volatile. And I am told they treat their dogs and horses appallingly – so much for the fairy stories I was raised on :-(.