More sad news to report from the ex-pat circle over here. At the end of May, our little friend Ann left this world for (more) heavenly climes.
Honestly, there must be a rush on at the pearly gates right now, here’s hoping St Peter (or is that Sveti Petko?) is coping with this latest raft of arrivals.
Not one to hold back, Ann was never afraid to tell it how it was — and as for her attitude to what anybody else thought of that? “I don’t care!” Her unpretentious honesty coupled with that impish sense of humour often had me in stitches.
Challenging the norms to the last, even her funeral was beautiful, unexpected, dramatic, engaging and unforgettable. Who else’s plot would need extra time to dig due to hitting bedrock, putting the start time back an hour? Who’s hearse would arrive so late it ensured the whole entourage got sloshed in the cafe across the road waiting for it to pick her up from the church?
And who would be laughing herself hoarse watching her nearest and dearest huddled together – along with the previously rather solitary priest – in a tiny bus stop at the graveyard, trying (and failing) to avoid getting drenched in an enormous thunderstorm?
It could only be Ann. We’ll miss you, lady.