A true tale

This is a true tale that reached it's conclusion about two weeks ago.

Back in the 60's there was a crowd of about six young lads in a local village and I was a part of the gang. The father of one of the guys was the local part-time grave-digger. I always liked Jim and never gave much thought to his strange hobby. Over the years I'd sometimes wander into the churchyard and read the gravestones and it soon became clear that as time passed I knew more and more of the residents. I haven't been to that village much in the last twenty years but recently Jim's son turned up on Friends Reunited. There was the usual exchange of email enquiring about those we knew in the old days. Some had moved away (Jim's son, also called Jim, now lives in north London and is retired) Anyway, it transpires that Jim the elder passed away about a fortnight ago. I wasn't aware of his passing or I might have turned up at the funeral. Apparently they had a standard ceremony in the church then took the coffin down to the village hall a hundred yards away for a wake. They proceeded to rest the coffin on trestles and got stuck into the scoff and booze. Eventually the wake came to an abrupt end (I think when they ran out of booze), and they solemnly carried the coffin back to the church yard. As they entered the church gates they suddenly realised that no one had dug a hole for Jim! They had to replace him in the church until the next day and someone was elected to do the honours. His son said, the old man would have laughed himself to death!