At my local old folks' hall, which I visit for the mini-Ws' tap-dancing lessons and in mental preparation for my own admission, someone has posted details of the funeral of a former member. After the crematorium service, there will be some food at the hall, followed by a game of bingo in the deceased's memory. My mind is wandering skywards and I'm thinking of an old lady - freed from the limitations and travails of earthly existence - looking down from the biggest bingo hall of all. With a ghostly hand, she marks her ethereal card and waits for the opportunity to call 'house' one last time.
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