The minister announces that there will be refreshments in the community hall, provided by the wonderful ladies of the church. Grandma brightens up convincing me this is the highlight of the service.
We enter the hall, see several proud women with the same permed hairdo, in aprons, busy filling plates. I hear someone ask one of them if there’s any mustard. The lady replied, “No, he loved mustard, so it was buried with him”.
Grandma voices her appreciation to the women, and I anticipate a reply of “Come again” but they nod, solemnly.