A farewell with finger sandwiches and dainty teacups
- Apr 29
- 7 min read
Two days ago I went to a funeral of this lovely lady here. Her name is Shell and she was a member of my 'old ladies book group'. I hope they do not mind the name but we are indeed all old. Shell was one of the oldest - she was I think 94 when she died. This is her on her ninetieth birthday I believe.
This is the book group I joined, maybe a year after we arrived in Australia, maybe 1970 - before children for us all. Of course the members have changed over the years. Shell joined I think when we were living in Adelaide in the early 80s. So I have known her a very long time. She is not a close friend, but a warm acquaintance, shall I say.
Shell was one of the most gentle, kind and gracious/graceful people I have ever met, and one who thought deeply about life and expressed her feelings with clarity and consideration. And yet with a twinkle in her eye and a quiet sense of humour. She was somebody to admire, but she will obviously be remembered with great love by her family and close-kit circle of 'real' friends. So much so that I felt a bit of an intruder at the service.
For yes it was a religious service - she had a deep faith. Something I do not share, and yet another reason to feel like an intruder. And yet I was raised a Christian, and so those hymns and prayers could still be spoken by rote, and indeed brought back memories of Sunday services at our local church,
When one goes to a funeral one learns sometimes surprising things about the one who has died. In this case, although I was dimly aware that Shell had moved around a bit when young, I did not realise how much. Born in Shanghai, and then sent to live in England with her grandparents when her mother died when she was very young, although there may have been a spell in New Zealand - her parents' home - in between. After England a return to father and a new stepmother and lots of moves around New Zealand - so many primary and high schools, some of them boarding - more than one a year. A degree as a dietician in Otago New Zealand. Then England again where she met her husband with a final return to Australia. Such a disturbed childhood would have defeated many and the person who came out at the end as it were, may well have been damaged. But not Shell. I can only assume that she was nevertheless always surrounded by love.
There were eulogies by her two daughters and two grandchildren, and a close friend. Tears were inevitably shed, but they painted a picture of a wonderful woman illustrated by her last days. She threw a party a few days before her death, with champagne, music - they are a very musical family , and died peacefully with her family all around - her harpist daughter playing for her and the rest of the family singing quietly. And the most touching thing - for me - one daughter told us that her last words were "Everything will be fine." Which in one sense is unbelievably caring and thoughtful, but for me - and probably for all of us who knew her - so very much Shell.
It was a quietly joyful service in a way, but sober none the less - it was a church after all, and a good friend to all who were there had died. It was very sad occasion for those left behind.
And here I come to the finger sandwiches and the dainty cups of tea. For whenever we had a book group meeting at Shell's house - our meetings are daytime now - and followed by lunch and gossip - Shell would serve us finger sandwiches and cups of coffee - not tea - this is how times have changed - in dainty teacups. And a dainty cake as well.
It must have been a custom of hers, for these sandwiches and the dainty cups were mentioned in the eulogies - particularly the one from her granddaughter, who never understood the dainty cups. She ultimately persuaded her grandmother to give her a larger cup I think.
So when we finally progressed from the sombre church - a rather nice Anglican church in Hampton - the other side diagonally of Melbourne for me - to the church hall for refreshments, there were the finger sandwiches and the dainty teacups. There were other things as well of course, as is traditional at such occasions - sausage rolls, mini quiches, probably small cakes - but when I saw those sandwiches I just had to have one. It was so representative of the spirit of Shell as it were. A homage. Such an appropriate way to remember her.
A foodie aside here. About names. I think I wrote about these sandwiches a long time ago. Probably after lunch with Shell. And I am pretty sure that I called them club sandwiches, because that's what I thought they were called. And indeed they sometimes are. But the club sandwich is, I now know, an American thing and therefore tends to be cheesier, bigger and toastier. These beautifully delicate things are either tea sandwiches or finger sandwiches - with, I think, finger sandwiches being a subdivision of tea sandwiches, which can be different shapes - mostly triangular but sometimes circular.
I have never made these sandwiches, but I do love them. They are so English, although the Japanese have something similar - the sando sandwich which is made with a softer and sweeter kind of bread, and often filled with fruit.
I'm sure I wrote about origins and all that a long time ago, but it is interesting why it is just the English who have developed, these soft, crustless, and dainty sandwiches, filled with almost bland things like cucumber, egg and chicken. I suppose it's the bread. Do other countries - traditionally anyway - make soft breads in a rectangular shape that can be sliced into neat little squares and then neat triangles or rectangles. Tea sandwiches are the time for soft white - or other breads - but soft - to shine.
I also don't think it's only the middle and upper classes who indulge in them. They're a special occasion thing for everyone, no matter their class. It's not an everyday thing, because they are a minor bother to put together - and they look so decorative. We might have had sandwiches with sort of the same fillings, but the eggs would just have been sliced, the chicken just in pieces and the cucumber or tomato just sliced as well. For everyday there would not have been the addition of fancy things like mayonnaise, or cream cheese, watercress or cress. The eggs would not have been mashed, and the cucumber sliced so thin. And smoked salmon is definitely not an everyday thing is it?
So the working class would have them at birthday parties and suchlike. A treat. I remember such things from my childhood, although they often had something in them that did not appeal to me? Capers maybe? Or was it that awful salad cream?
And the dainty teacups would only have been brought out for special occasions, because clumsy hands could break them. And they may well have been family heirlooms.
I do not know whether Shell's church had those dainty teacups anyway or whether they had sourced them especially, but it was indeed a nice touch. I did not indulge, because I do not like tea, and as my fellow book clubber commented, you don't get good coffee at such occasions.
But as I stood back a little from the gathering I saw how the sobriety of the church service had changed to animated conversation and some laughs as well. Food does that. It was no longer a slightly awkward occasion but a gathering of people remembering a completely lovely person who had asked that we wear bright colours to her funeral for that was what she loved.
One last little coincidence. The day after the funeral this painting by one Joachim Patinir, painted between 1515 and 1524 and called Landscape with Charon Crossing the Styx, turned up in my art desk calendar. I was struck by how little space Hell took up in this long ago painting of an even more ancient - indeed mythical time - and how the majority of the painting - even the Hades side on the right, was dominated by beauty and startling blues and greens - the colour of the planet. I read in Wikipedia:
"The passenger in the boat, too minute to distinguish his expressions, is a human soul deciding between Heaven, to his right (the viewer's left), or Hell, to his left."
I did not think one could choose - and if one could why would anyone choose Hell? Perhaps that's why it is so small. Maybe it's because of "the more difficult path to Heaven" as described in religious literature. All irelevant of course, but nevertheless the painting seemed in keeping with the overall joyousness of Shell's funeral.
And if I believed in such things as heaven and hell, I know where Shell would be now. Maybe eating a plate of tea sandwiches with her beloved husband, with a cup of tea in a dainty teacup .
YEARS GONE BY
April 29
2025 - Nothing
2023 - Carrot soup
2022 - Carrot cake
2021 - Missing
2020 - Missing
2019 - Nothing
So sad - the passing of a treasured long time friend. "Parting is such sweet sorrow" but with no tomorrow.