Had an opportunity to road test secularity a few years ago when one of my sons died unexpectedly. Cremation, in a rather dull little chapel in West London seemed oddly apposite and I set aside what, in my dreamy state leading up to this dreadful day would have been my first choice, but the wrong one - the plaintive viola ode by Vaughn Williams, Flos Campi - in favour of, among a few others, You Are My Sunshine by (and this was important) the great Chattanoogan Norman Blake. To quote the hideous Cowell, it had the X Factor
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