About fifty years ago, my husband and I were walking home from Manchester along Oldham Road. It was the early hours of the morning, as he’d been playing piano at the Ritz ballroom.

We passed a little pub, from which drifted lovely Irish music. As Geoff was part Irish, he stopped and knocked at the door. All went quiet, the door opened and the landlord stood there. He asked us were we members of the Wake (Funeral). Geoff said “No sir, but we heard the music.”

The landlord ushered us in and said though it was a wake we were welcome. There was a coffin open on the table and an old chap in it, a pint of Guinness at the side and a plate with a pie on it. Geoff told me the people were seeing him on his last journey. Geoff played a battered old piano for hours and the folk played and sang along to “The Galway Shawl” “Galway Bay” “Connemara Cradle Song” etc. What a splendid way to go on a final journey.

I will never forget it. I would like to think my family shed no tears of sorrow and will sing me to my kind of Heaven.
Edie Pilkington.