Lovely funeral, father!

Went to a lovely funeral. Ninety-nine and a half. Sherry-loving spinster, Walsingham dame, racing tipster, scourge of trendy clergy bringing innovations. I once had the temerity to re-arrange the lady chapel with a westward facing altar and the chairs in a circle instead of rows. "I want to come to mass, not a seance!" was the response. Lovely lady, but terrifying. We had an arrangment. If she didn't like something she'd call me over; "A word father...". I'd listen attentively and say "I'll give it serious consideration..." She and I knew that nothing would be done. We got on well, I think.