Brighid’s Diary: ‘He didn’t move. That’s all I need, my first corpse in the cottage’

“The name of the ghost is Rich. I come from Alabama. Any stories to tell this week? We enjoyed listening to ya tawk. “As it happened, I had two other people come in the next night to hear some of my stories. It suited me big. “Sure,” I said. “Tomorrow at eight.”

“What is your name?” tell him.

“Biddy,” I said.

“Well, Miss Biddy, you’re funny to try and stop us.”

On Thursday I had a lovely looking house. I’ve finished the business and it’s great to be back in business. The lawn fire is burning, the shutters are pulled back, the candles are lit, the cocktails are ready, my apron is already on.

The first to arrive were John and Bridie, two civil servants from Cavan. I know when I look at them, all will be without sound. You only know these things.

John was bent over his legs, his knees bent out into a large circle. As the father would say, he will do a terrible job of blocking a pig in a narrow passage. Bless him.

And as I surmised, no one said a word all night. Well, they’re from Cavan, aren’t they?

But nothing, I mean nothing can prepare me for my next arrivals. The rich family is something else. I shook hands with his wife Arlene, daughter Dream and their son-in-law, a Londoner named Pete, who was a member of Plymouth Brethren in England.

Pete left what he called a “forced cult” and began rehab for alcoholism. That failed miserably and now he’s getting ready to attend Paddy’s Holiday. Where? Biddy’s cottage, of course. The cheers from Cavan were speechless.

The night slowly passed. Needless to say, they love cocktails made with pink grapefruit and rosemary.

Well, as I appreciated them with my tales of the Irish countryside, John B Keane and the Dalkey fairy tale madness, I had my eye on Pete’s rock from Plymouth Brethren. You can tell he worked very hard. “Did you know the Brethren started in Dublin,” he said, draining his fourth cocktail. “Several groups of Christians met in your city to celebrate the Lord’s Supper around 1827.”

Then he collapsed on the sofa with the words, “Shall we go back to the hotel?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” said Rich. “Don’t worry, Miss Biddy, I don’t mind being a son-in-law when he needs help. We’ll take me home. ”

“Do you know why I left the brothers?” Pete said, getting up again.

“No,” I said.

“I was brought home by a stray dog, I love that dog. I call him Lost, because he was.” As you can gather, Pete is not exactly the sharpest knife in Sheffield. “They don’t like dogs,” he continued. “They forbade them, calling them ‘God’s distraction’.”

“It’s true,” said Rich. “They don’t like dawgs.”

When the story was over, I poured tea and noticed a massive keychain with a giant silver skull hanging from Rich’s belt.

I said, “That’s some collection that you get from you.

Rich said: “Read what this says, and show me a silver square on the necklace. It reads, ‘A truly great undertaker is hard to find, hard to part with and impossible to forget.’

“Is that really your line of business?” sa

“Definitely so,” he said. “I bury the good and the bad. Oh, we have a gift for you. Dream on baby, why don’t you show Miss Biddy the book and the scent we gave her. ”

The dream originated with her tie-dyed backpack and creating a spiral notebook. Book title – I’m dead, now what?

That’s 96 wisdoms for you to absorb, says Rich. “It will help you have more plans. Please take it and read it”.

“Begod, I don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon, Rich,” I said.

“Now smell that perfume,” he said, handing me what looked like Goths favorite perfume in a black bottle. It brought me the hebejebees.

“Did you make this yourself?” I say.

“No, we just bought it online. Our customers love it. ”

Arlene, his wife, who is a bit hippy, said: “It smells fishy, ​​say. “It has the haunting scent of southern sandalwood and yes, it is murky.” Well, she described it right. Sombre and a bit of a haunted look, a bit like herself.

“Do you have any help at the funeral parlor?” I told Arlene.

“That’s right,” she said. “Ah used to be a florist, but these days flowers are wilting and dying. They are not environmentally friendly. I’m full of chemicals. “

“What’s the weirdest request you’ve ever had for a funeral?” I ask.

“Before the game, we introduced a man sitting in his favorite chair with bourbon in his hand, a Marlboro in his mouth and a rifle between his legs. Lawd, it was cold to watch. But we have to do what the family wants. It’s all about caring for people. We then cremated me and placed my ashes in a pistol-shaped urn as a keepsake. He is a wild turkey hunter. ”

Eat, devour. Bang, I think.

“Now, are you all ready to go home?” Rich said, “Pete, you’re ready now. You have to git up. “

Pete didn’t budge.

“Oh, hello Pete,” Arlene stretched. Pete’s rock didn’t move.

That was all I needed, my first corpse in the little house. Where is Fecker? He was lying flat on the floor, his head resting on the sheepskin rug I’d bought from Meadows and Byrne.

I’m ready to scream. I called a cab for Rich; backers from Cavan say they don’t need one.

“Had to regroup, Pete,” said Rich. And not all of them suddenly come to life as the meerkats warn. Dream is buttoning Pete’s shirt, Rich and Arlene are buttoning his coat like professional tailors. They laid Pete flat on his back, put his hands on his chest, and gathered the rug around him, Rich carried him to the taxi.

That was the first time I saw someone leave the cottage in a horizontal position.

The poor couple from Cavan could barely talk. They are green in the face. ‘Their first two nights in 25 years of marriage, a billion-dollar wedding anniversary, and they’ve never seen anything like it. Neither do I, for that matter. The Cavanites hardly waved as they made their way to the Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel.

After cleaning up the kitchen, I sat down with a glass of Grüner and Google reviews of the aroma of ‘Funeral House’. It is made by Demeter and one of the reviews says it all: “This definitely smells like a funeral home! Strange. It has the disinfectant, deadly chemicals, and floral scent that every funeral home I’ve been to has. I know that doesn’t sound appealing. But it really works as a scent, which is amazing.”

Well, I grabbed the creepy black bottle Rich graciously gave me and dropped it in the bin. Now, how’s your week?