Back in Cambridge again for a few hours, for the funeral of my dear friend Francis O'Gorman - a beautiful, solemn (for which read - emotionally devastating) service: very Victorian; very High Anglican; very - of course, since he'd planned it himself - appropriate, all the way through. It was only lacking in black horses and plumes. But what Francis couldn't have planned, of course, was the beauty and aptness of the tributes to him - and the combination of love and loss that they contained. I don't think I've been to such an affecting funeral in a very long time.
En route - the Cambridge encampment - bigger than ours at USC (you can't see that here); orderly in the extreme; the familiar chants; the familiar placards against the genocide, including from Jewish groups; not a policeman or security officer in sight. Shall I repeat that last statement?
After the funeral, a reception at Newnham, with copious champagne that most of us were very glad to get our hands on, and, it being Oxbridge, sandwiches. And the banners! I've never been in Newnham hall, which is decorated with elaborate plaster like a wedding cake that's being entered into an icing competition - and hanging from one end, banners reading BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BECOME / ONE DAY WE'LL ALL PARTY ON THE FORBIDDEN BALCONIES and DISOBEDIENCE - LIBERATION and GIVE US BREAD BUT GIVE US ROSES and SOLIDARITY FOREVER - I can't really see these hanging inside Bovard ...
A long day - and I'm now in London - but one for which I was so very glad to have been able to be present.
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