When does even the most laggard of us feel compelled to scrabble around for writing materials, hunt down a postage stamp and write a letter? Yes, it’s when someone close to you has experienced bereavement. And sadly, as we grow old, it happens all the more frequently. So the writers’ group put their minds to a letter of condolence. We might as well work on getting the tricky thing right.

Some offered letters they had actually written. Others were inventive. Tim, never the one to toe the party line, came up with some golden rules: write by hand (ouch, even the computer not allowed); keep it short; share a memory; abjure platitude: as Paula said ‘It will not get better over time. Tim then managed to make it funny ‘It must have been difficult having to hire an excavator… so that he will forever remain at the end of your garden’; (Was the loved-one a horse?). It was a relief among the tears some other letters drew. Gill’s letter was a brief eulogy for ‘a very precious younger sister’, and she spoke of the comfort of faith. This prompted a discussion, as interesting as the writing, about how non-believers of assorted faiths should comfort believers and vice versa, and we didn’t agree; some feeling it was insincere or even hypocritical to cite a faith one didn’t share, or to invoke it to a non-believer. All agreed that condolence had more meaning if writer and recipient shared a belief in an after-life. Philippa suggested Dave Allen’s sign off ‘May your God go with you,’ was reasonably open-ended.

The sensitive topic lead to some personal revelations among the group, concerning loss, family relationships and belief, and, not for the first time, I was struck how a U3A group can open up real friendship because it encourages us to get to know each other more deeply. I wondered whether other groups share this experience. Perhaps I should ask?