The Good Funeral Guide Blog

An Irish love story

Saturday, 11 January 2014

dying-man
 
An elderly man lay dying in his bed.

While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.

With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death’s agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Irish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon…

‘Fuck off’ she said, ‘they’re for the funeral.’

A golden oldie requested by JS.

6 comments on “An Irish love story

  1. Calum McLennan

    Tuesday 16th August 2016 at 6:06 pm

    Same story from Scotland – the old ones are the best!

  2. Tuesday 14th January 2014 at 6:27 pm

    I live in Wisconsin amongst a fairly heavy Scandinavian population. This is a popular “Ole and Lena” joke that is always good for a laugh:

    “Ole was on his death bed, and the doctor had told Lena he wouldn’t last the night and he might as well die at home on his own bed. After a while Ole’s eyes flickered open and he sniffed the air and muttered “Lefse oh Lefse”. He worked his way to the edge of the bed and slipped to the floor. Sniffing the air and muttering “Lefse” he crawled to the stairs and half climbed / half fell downstairs. “Oh Lefse” he said as he crawled to the kitchen door. There he saw Lena standing at the stove cooking Lefse, with a stack of finished ones on the table. He crawled to the table and painfully pulled himself up on a chair murmuring Lefse. He was reaching out for one when Lena turned and saw him. She smacked his hand with the spatula and said “Now Ole stop that – those are for after the funeral”.

  3. Tuesday 14th January 2014 at 1:43 pm

    Interesting point, Jeanne: why Irish? Because the Irish do death so much better than us, I suppose — more exuberantly and with greater enjoyment. To an English person this sounds like an Irish story.

    Yes, feck might have been preferable – though lacking full shock value?

  4. Monday 13th January 2014 at 9:12 pm

    Happy New year to Charles and all.

    I am curious to know why it is called an Irish story and, as ye propbably know from Fr Ted, ‘Feck off” is the more likely expletive if you want to give it an Irish accent.!

  5. Bob

    Monday 13th January 2014 at 1:28 am

    This would have been much more enjoyable without the profanity….Profanity is not needed unless your upbringing has provided you with limited vocabulary skills. The way you say things indicates your IQ.

    • Jonathan

      Monday 13th January 2014 at 9:17 am

      Bollocks, Bob. ‘Profane’ means merely ‘Not belonging to what is sacred or biblical’ (pro = outside [approx], fanum [L] = temple). I assume you’re referring to the expression ‘fuck off’, an expression I would certainly use in this context, and my upbringing and study has provided me with plenty of vocabulary skills thank you, and my IQ is probably the same as yours.

      If you find something objectionable about certain words or expressions, have a closer look at your own derisory comments about those of us who treat them as everyday language. We’re allowed to speak on this blog too.

      J

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