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From Rev’d Richard Coles, cleric and broadcaster:

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God showers blessings on the righteous; so where’s my multiple rollover lottery win? I thought, nursing a feeling of grievance at the inequity of fate as I made my way to the Crem to take a funeral.

But it was, after all, to be my day. As I drove along, a black turbocharged 4x4 came up behind me, like one of the Dark Lord’s Deatheater’s on the move, way too fast and way too close on a section narrow-laned for road works. My policy on such occasions is ‘steady as she goes’, and not to be intimidated into speeding up; but this guy was in a hurry, and started nudging nearer, flashing his headlights, and sounding his horn. I judged discretion to be the better part of valour, accelerated away and as soon as I could pulled over to let him pass. As he did he made a frankly Anglo Saxon gesture at me, before he and his personalised numberplate receded into the distance (note: if you are going to advertise who you are in your car then don’t drive like a witless hyena).

These sort of roadway encounters used to wind me up and I would sit fuming behind the wheel in defeat, but not so much now. Perhaps it’s just my betablockers kicking in, but I can’t be bothered to get worked up by a poltroon in a super car. Let it be.
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And then the blessing. As I turned into the crematorium car park there it was, parked, driver on his mobile, at least until it was time for the funeral I was taking and he attending.
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Me in the driving seat this time, with an opportunity in my address to depart for a moment from the details of the life of the deceased and improvise a little on the theme of the first being last, and the last being first, and how we might better make our way through the world seeking not our own advancement but the good of all.
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But an opportunity I didn’t take. Because my wounded pride, and tit for tat, seemed suddenly inconsequential in the far horizons of eternity. He put twenty quid in the collection though. Result.

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