This week started off horribly when my phone pinged on Monday afternoon telling me that Dolores O'Riordan had been found dead, at 46. I was completely stunned and immediately found myself thinking back to my late teens when I had her voice in my ears constantly. I spent a fabulously hot day at Murrayfield Stadium in Edinburgh, way back in July 1995, when The Cranberries supported R.E.M's Monster tour; and they were immense. Her voice was so haunting, but so powerful and I felt like I'd lost a part of my youth in her passing.
The subsequent days passed fairly uneventfully, before I was consigned to bed all day Friday when I felt too awful to do anything else. I managed to cheer myself up indulging in a bit of Netflixin' and started watching the bizarre story of Robert Durst in The Jinx, in between naps, obviously.
And so, the weekend started slowly, with a trip out to the local town, in the incessant rain, to stock up on groceries. When we arrived home, Les made a run down the mailbox to collect the usual junk we seem to constantly receive and I was surprised to find that I had a leaflet and a letter. Mostly, the mail that comes to our house is for Les. This is mainly because I haven't bothered to change my address with many people in the two years I've lived in Wales.
Upon closer inspection of aforementioned mail, I discovered the leaflet was for funeral plans. It was positively *imploring* me to sort out my life (or death, rather) so that I didn't have to worry about it later on. To be honest, I hadn't really been worried about it at ALL until I received the leaflet, but now I really started to wonder whether I should have been. The glossy colour leaflet shows a smiling woman (undoubtedly one who's relieved at having picked out a plot and paid for a coffin) and told me all about how to fix the cost of my funeral director's plans. I didn't even know that was a thing. It was also offering me a £200 discount if I contact them before April 1st. If that wasn't tempting enough for me, they would also throw in a free pen just for enquiring. Now, I like a free pen as much as the next girl, but I'm not entirely sure using a pen advertising funeral plans wouldn't make me feel a touch odd.
As I was busy complaining to Les about the leaflet and being horrified that it should have been sent to me (from Glasgow, no less. Thanks Scotland: I love you too....), I started to open my other piece of mail. Any feelings I had about the whole funeral thing were quickly replaced by the shock of a notice from North Wales Police informing me that they intended to prosecute me for speeding on 2nd December 2017. The irony of receiving both pieces of mail on the same day didn't escape me and I decided to get myself that funeral plan pen after all, so that I could complete the Police form and let Heddlu issue me with a large fine and a few penalty points. Silver linings, and all that.
Part of me is all like: 'FFS!!...I've never had points or a fine in the UK in my LIFE!', while the other half is like: 'It's pretty impressive that I made it to 40 without ever having been caught speeding...'. I'm unsure quite how to feel about it but, as I'm assured my driving will become increasingly slower as I get older, we can only hope that I won't repeat the offence *after* I'm 40. I'll certainly be on constant alert for cameras on my way to work, I can tell you that for free.