6th January, 2007 Puerto de Mazarron, Spain

Considering the circumstances it hasn't been too grim. My father died in his sleep. He was very happy in Spain and surrounded by good friends. Apparently he was partying all over Christmas. Providing my Dad could dance, laugh, drink, smoke and stay brown, he was content. There was a Pythonesque moment at the funeral director's when they wanted to ask whether we would be burying his ashes or scattering them. As we don't speak a word of Spanish and they didn't speak a word of English, there was some rather fairly insensitive and unsubtle miming before we established what we would be doing. My Dad's ashes then held pride of place at Bongo's Bar on the sea front while his friends drank to his memory and danced to his favourite McGuiness Flint record - When I'm Dead and Gone (Don´t want nobody to mourn beside my grave). On Monday there will be a more solemn occasion when we scatter his ashes in the sea.