The word you were looking for was ‘laldy’ not ‘lady’
Me and my sisters – literally and spiritually – giving it laldy somewhere back in the day when our hair was a fluffy as our hopes were high and our earrings as jangly as our nerves were the next morning.
This is one of those pictures I treasure, sharp and bright memories of the fun-filled life I intend to keep having right till the end. It’s so clear, I can still feel the rough wool of the tartan kilt and heft of the shiny red Docs I was wearing.
And that’s the picture I want to come to mind when I get to have my Final Fling. The misbehaving, the nonsense, the fun, the adventure, the bovver boots. So I’ve just added a level of detail to my instructions in my Wishes today that I never thought I’d have to clarify: “Do NOT let the celebrant call me a ‘lady’.” I’ve been a baby, a child, a girl, a young adult, a woman. I ain’t never been n ain’t never gonna be a lady.
I realised I’d better after a family funeral I’ve just been to. Even though it was a good life celebration, a simple funeral, Humanist, no singing, thoughtfully chosen reflective funeral music, well crafted story, I found myself the fizzing feminist – again.
“Jane was a lovely lady… a typical mum”. Ouch. So – sexist. What on earth is a ‘typical mum’. Jane had an earthy, easy laugh and the strength and spirit to be Principal Music Teacher in a massive secondary school. She managed me and other rowdies. Nuff said. She was as gutsy as she was warm, kind and clipping as required.
Anyway, I’m sure you get the point. So just a warning to anyone that’s going to be around for my send-off, my Final Fling. Don’t even think about it. Lovely lady indeed.
“She gave it laldy” – that’ll do nicely.
If you care about your send-off, get your instructions down in your Wishes.
Me and my sisters – literally and spiritually – give it laldy on a
finalflinguk 