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Modern manners

Jeremy Clarke watches his father die in a poorhouse among strangers

By Jeremy Clarke   November 1996

Dad died in March. I lost my temper a couple of times; otherwise I seemed to get over it quite quickly. My sister still cries every day. Last week she rang up the crematorium to find out whether they still had his ashes. They did, and she picked them up that same afternoon on the way back from shopping. The funeral director came out of his office and unceremoniously handed over a Tesco bag. She put it among her other carrier bags full of groceries in the footwell and drove home.

Dad declined and died in a week, and I…

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