Suffering from a surfeit of deaths.

In the last six weeks we have lost my brother Robert and his (and mine)first  cousin also called Robert ,who was a Welshman living near Salisbury in England.And Gary Travers ,Korea Mc Donagh , Larry O Brien' from Tullaghnogue.and Join Hyland.I am suffering from funeral fatigue and not in the best of form.Too many  memories.
It was decided that myself and herself would represent the families at the Salisbury funeral ,so we headed via Rosslare via Pembroke Dock across the butt of Wales ,skirting Bath and on to Frome where my wife's sister lives.She is a seventy year old widow who  left Templemore at sixteen years of age to seek employment in Frome where her Tipperary born aunt lived for seventy years until her death last year.
I'd say that the users of the M4 across Wales would not be too pleased with MH registrations as I am not a man to put the pedal to the metal at the best of times and prefer to drive off motorways if possible,but this was  not on in this journey.
I find that driving on motorways requires absolute concentration at the speeds used on them and must say that the Brits and the Welsh have the M4 well signposted in advance ,so few surprises emerge.And a Sat .Nav. is only a brilliant aid on these long journeys.
And the amount of lorries on them is unreal.From the looks of things if the lorries ceased to travel the country would grind to a standstill within weeks.Lorry drivers are a much under appreciated sector of society it seems to me and are subjugate to such over regulation that it is difficult to see how they put up with it at all.
We rested up in Frome for a day or two and renewed friendships with Dolores,Martina and Judith and Shannon but missed Denise.We were treated like royalty.lovely people.Frome is a hilly agricultural town and the people are friendly ,as far as I can see.
On walkabouts I spotted a man older than myself on a high nelly bike ,sporting a pair of wellies with a rain mac on and with a carrier on the back on which was rested and tied a bag of groceries .You could see similar men in a thousand towns and villages in Ireland.The spit of Joe Mac Cormack or Joe Travers if  you like.Must be a genetic connection somewhere, however remote.
On then to Wilton near Salisbury for the funeral which was held in a Church of England Church.We stayed with my cousin Teresa and her husband Pete Truttle a Brit. and native of the area.They gave up their beds for us for the two days and nights we were there.We were treated like royalty by them and our other cousins Gwenda and Sylvia and their families,I cannot speak highly enough of all these cousins of mine and my father's only surviving brother Alan .who at 81 is as sharp as a razor. And healthier by far than mused nearly 20 years his junior.
These are country folk and as sound as they come.Pete is a fierce sound guy and could without any bother morph into any rural village in Ireland and fit right in ,no bother.I was mightily impressed with him.Although younger than me he worked on binders and finger bar mowers drawn by horses in his youth and has a fierce bond with the land from his childhood.
He bears a multitude of medical setbacks with considerable fortitude.Must be the olive oil he so adores.
We drove around the Salisbury plains and saw Stonehenge.There is an outdoor  piggery next door to it and there were pagans aplenty parked in the vicinity.
One thing I did notice was the massive size of the fields thereabouts .I would guess that the smallest was over 100 acres and many were well of much greater acreage.Nearly all were grain growing.I learned that most of the agricultural land in England and Wales is owned by a handful of aristocrats and those farming the land lease it from the landowners and rarely own it outright.
In a nutshell the aristocracy stole the land from the natives in England and still have it and lease it back to them.Here it was stolen from the natives but we got it back,.Fair dues us.
Our cousin died tragically.He had a leg removed two years ago and a foot also removed since He was diabetic from a young age and was strict in observing the prescribed medical protocols.He was only 58 years old.
.Concurrently his wife was also suffering her own considerable medical traumas.
My uncle suffered the heartbreak of burying his only and much revered son.And his wife Jo and children Luke,Thomas and Kim and grandchildren Tyler and Georgina were heartbroken also,as you would expect.
My cousins and uncle all live beside each other and are fierce united.At 81 years young he is slowing down a bit and is lucky to have them so close at hand.He is an expert fly fisherman and gives classes to people as far away as Sweden and there were fellow fishermen from Wales at the funeral,which overflowed the Church in South Newton.
This was the first time I attended any service in a Cof E.Church.The Vicar was the precise stereotype depicted in the popular press and media,avuncular,cuddly and as nice as pie.Hymns were interspersed with tributes by the Vicar,a female Churchwoman and the Ex Mayoress of the area.
There was nothing approaching the Catholic Mass nor the Rosary we are all so familiar with here.
And for the record there is absolutely no difference in the Lord's prayer as recited in the Catholic faith and the one I heard.
He was buried afterwards in the adjoining graveyard with his mother who obviously pre deseased him.I imagine that the grave was hand dug as hereabouts.and some graves go back to the 1600 's.
There was light refreshments at a local alehouse afterwards but very little drink was consumed as everybody lives in dread of the local police.
Like hereabouts they hide in ditches and in lay byes to catch their victims.
The rush to criminalise as many people as possible is well under way as there seems to be a move to ban any alcohol whatsoever whilst driving.
So the zealots are everywhere.
We put the wrong coinage in the Toll at the Severn  and caused a five minute delay.My ears are still burning from the unheard sneers about the fucking stupid Irish .Mea wifes culpa.
We stopped on the way home in the Angel Hotel in Cardigan ,where my mother worked before I was born over sixty years ago and where she met my father.Nobody remembered her there,.Given her age this was no surprise.  And the House where they lived for a while in Gloucester Row is in the news about an attempt to impose parking charges there.
I did harden up somewhat some family history about two great ,great,great great granduncles who were sentenced to penal servitude for life for allegedly killing a neighbour who informed on them for poaching and using tree fall to provide for their own families instead of handing  it up to the Landlord.
But more about when I have translated the Welsh language book I was gifted by Alan on the subject.
Home with us through Pembroke where the equivalent for ignorance of a frustrated rhino insulted me when I asked for directions and via Rosslare a short distance from which  where the speeding Taliban had a checkpoint to try and criminalise visitors not familiar with our speed limits.
Ireland of the welcomes me hole..
From all the Cardigan Stephenses in Ireland we extend our full sympathies to our Welsh relations.