I attended a funeral last week. It was and it wasn't sad. The woman who had died was not young - though she was not aged, either. She had been very ill for a long time, and for many there, her passing was a relief as well as something to mourn. More than anything, it was a family reunion. A reunion with some tears and comforting, but a reunion nonetheless. A social, laughing, partying woman, she would have liked that.

I sat behind a family who had brought a very young child, about four years old. He behaved impeccably. Because she was being cremated, there was no casket, but rather a series of picture and a floral display. It was quite nice. I sat in front of another young child, about eight. After the first six minutes, he started to fidget. And fuss. And cry. And whine. And kick the seat in front - mine. After a good ten minutes of this, dad takes him out. Finally.

At the reception which followed the service, I heard dad say to someone, "Yes, he's a wiggler. He can't sit still for more than ten minutes. Never could."

And I'm left wondering: well, if you knew that, why on earth did you bring him?