|'You aren’t the boss of me!' I told the tuba. Aunt Maude resides in there. With all the stubborn persistence she had exhibited in corporeal life, she had clung on to this earthly plane by inhabiting her ashes. The aforementioned ashes are in the tuba because Jakob threw them off the top of a skyscraper. She had demanded to BASE jump, alas, the parachute failed to open, the tub holding the ashes split and Uncle Isaac had to scoop the dust into his tuba before legging it. Now she communicates by playing the restraining cling film over the bell end as if it were a kazoo.
A kazoo is an excellent instrument to blow a raspberry. Followed by the Beach Boys hit, 'Surfing USA'. Again. After the thirtieth rendition, at 3 a.m., I gave in. The tickets to California were easy enough to purchase. It was not so easy explaining to customs officers in both the UK and the USA why I had a tuba, filled with cremated remains, wrapped in cling film. It was hampered by Aunt Maude's range of musical farts.
I made sure she had a window seat for the flight. She was annoyed when I balanced a book on her cling film, it dampened 'Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines'. I paid for it later, in the hotel. Jet lag does not improve constant renditions of Queen hits buzzed, kazoo style.
I will not relate, just now, the full incident of taking a tuba, wrapped in flotation bubbles, on a surf board. I will simply mention that the water was cold and the hungry shark lost its appetite when blasted by a foghorn. Recovering on the beach was as frightening as being a lunch.
Aunt Maud was humming the theme tune from 'Everest'.