As BB said, he was around for a long, long time and he paid his dues

Crowds thronging the Grassmarket at the annual Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival

I had a work commitment that I couldn’t get out of, but even if I had been free, I am not sure I would have been able to go. I find funerals profoundly depressing. The hushed tones. The sombre music. The coffin. Even when a minister or celebrant attempts to bring some life to the proceedings with amusing anecdotes, I find the laughter strained. There is something about a funeral service that brings out the worst in me, which is why I have left strict instructions for a direct cremation after I die. No funeral service please.

My family can organise a party a few weeks, even months, after my death if they so wish. They can hire a room in a pub, play some loud music and remember all the very many stupid things that I did. But I do not want a wake, and I most definitely do not want a formal service where a stranger “celebrates” my life with some hastily written lines culled from my grieving husband and sons. I prefer people remember me over a glass of wine, with David Bowie playing, not too loudly, in the background. Or not at all. I don’t mind if I leave no trace.

As for Brian Fallon, I have been thinking about him these last few days. One of my favourite photographs is of the two of us at a fancy dress party many, many years ago. Brian made a fantastic Comrade Stalin and I was a passable Maggie Thatcher. The image of us, arms linked, still makes me smile. Brian was a loyal Labour party man and a good servant of the people of Edinburgh. He was also a huge jazz fan and was chair of Edinburgh’s Jazz and Blues Festival for many years. It is thanks to him that giants like BB King came to the city to play. To paraphrase the King of the Blues, Brian was around for a long time, and he paid his dues. He will be missed.