The morning after the funeral, and I am taking stock of the mountain of debris from the wake that sort of happened last night.
We got back from the hotel about tea time in dribs and drabs, courtesy of Ian's sister who ferried the family back. Of course, my kids were the last back, and they had got Angela to detour via the local co-op minimart. Pink bubbly, wine, beers, snacks and pizzas arrived. Earler in the day I had given my new son-in -law a 13 year old bottle of Thomas Hardy's Ale(12%) which I'd bought Ian as a curiosity and that he'd totally forgotten about. It got opened, and although it was somewhat on the turn, being very sickly and otherwise indescribable, a few sips were had, and a toast made. Then there was the gift pack of Leffe. Let me just say that the youger element, and then later us and our next door neighbours, gave him an Ian style party. "For he's a jolly good fellow" was sung several times, speeches were made, and our VERY drunk older daughter was hatching plans with her cousin to send Ian across the globe in very small amounts with any of their travelling acquaintances who was willing, and to write a book about it from Ian's point of view! I ended up between 12.30am and 1am ferrying pissheads home! I was even able to have a chat with our local milkman who delivers about 1am, and who hadn't been able to make the funeral.

We were very pleased to see so many of our friends there, and wearing red. Even the staff at the hotel had asked if they could too. The Rector had said "We'll make sure we give the lad a good send off", and both he and Mike, another priest, who happens to live in my village and who has known us all the time we've been here, made sure of it. I'm pleased to say that the organist played Lord of the Dance at the "proper" speed too. I had visions of various folk musicians desperately trying somehow to up the tempo if he didn't. Not only that, courtesy of Google, (and Mudcat), our best man who we hadn't seen for about 20 years, posted up as a guest and made contact! (Paul Warwick).

I have been overwhelmed by what Ian's work colleagues have said about him. He as been described as irreplaceable, which is often a platitude tossed out at times like this, but they have explained the situation to me, and he IS! Nobody else has the broad level of skill, experience and expertise in the fields he was working in. They told me that he had wanted to go to that mine and was really pleased to be there, to be able to crack on with the job he was involved in. It was one of many he was needing to visit...wrong pit, wrong time...such is life.
His company has compiled a file of messages of condolence that have been received from all over the world, and are talking of a second. I also have a pile of letters that have been sent direct to me. The ultimate tribute is hopefully going to be paid next month at a local beer festival - he is to have a beer named for him, and the proceeds from its sale are to be sent to the disaster fund. I haven't yet counted the collection from the church, but I have around £300 in cheques that have been sent to me, and I have been told that the donations that have been made via the company account have reached into four figures: people have been asking for money to be deducted direct from any payments they were due.

The support from the Mudcat has been so helpful. It's like a comfort blanket that you can put round and slip into when you feel you need it. I tend to go on first thing in the morning at the moment, because that seems to be the time when I, as an early riser, have time to dwell on what's happened. I take a cup of coffee and some tissues, boot up the computer, greet (or often roundly curse) Ian to his face, as I have a picture of him pulling a face on the desktop, check my emails and then log on. Everybody has warned me of the dark days that WILL come, and I think I am ready to face them - I have no choice - but I'm not facing them alone.

Thanks guys

Andrea