You know you're getting old when most of your outings are to funerals. I seem to be burying a lot of friends lately. Mostly old timers like me, all heading for 'Boot Hill'. It's about the only time I get dressed up these days. Except for me 50th Wedding Anniversary a couple of years ago. I put on me suit coat for that. It's the same one I wore when I got married. It still fits. I'd still have the pants but the moths got at them. I've worn that suit coat to a lot of weddings and I can't count how many funerals. I was going to wear it to me own funeral one day but there's no use wasting a good coat, so I think I'll wear me old work clothes instead. Thinking of funerals reminds me of a story me old mum told me when I was young. Before she was married she used to knock around with a bloke called Jack. He and his father owned the funeral parlour in Mudgee. This Jack used to drink a lot. His father didn’t like him drinking, especially at work. Anyhow, he was having a drink in the morgue this day when he heard his father coming with someone who wanted to view a body. He had nowhere to hide, so he jumped into an empty coffin and pulled on the lid. His father didn’t know which coffin the body this person wanted to look at was in so he was going around lifting the lids off one at a time. He got to the coffin Jack was in and pulled the lid off. As he did, Jack sat up. His father, and the person with him, got such a fright they both fainted.