We arrived at 10.15 for the 11.45 funeral service, having the privilege and responsibility of representing Marilyn's many friends, colleagues and fellow travellers through her life's journey. Ian and Angi joined us shortly. The time passed quickly as we shared memories and anecdotes until the family and the hearse arrived. Greetings took place, respecting people's personal wishes at these difficult times.

The funeral director had a gentle and kindly demeanour as he invited our group of 10 to enter the chapel. We took our socially distanced chairs. Thank goodness Stephen, Olivia and Isobel were able to sit close together at the front. Instructions on the use of technology were given to Stephen as there would be no celebrant. The simple bamboo coffin with a single floral tribute in subtle pinks and mauves was carried in and placed down. Real Love by Tom Odell was playing. One by one the strangers left the chapel, closed the doors and at this point in time the atmosphere became intensely intimate and personal, Marilyn was with 10 people who dearly loved her. Tears were shed.

Isobel stood up, walked to the lectern, took a deep breath and, with such strength and emotion spoke at length about her Mother, such personal thoughts that she chose to share with us. Next, it was Olivia's turn. She found inner strength to movingly read a poem that was so beautiful and appropriate for Marilyn. After the poem Olivia introduced Perhaps Love by Placido Domingo and John Denver, chosen by Marilyn. Stephen had to follow his girls and he expressed doubt that he would be able to do so. His doubts were unfounded as he shared snippets from a selection of the very many letters and messages that they had received. He spoke passionately about what the loss of Marilyn meant to him, his two daughters and to so many people. Stephen spoke magnificently, only pausing occasionally allowing the strength of his emotions to peek through. Tears were shed.

After a time for personal reflection, the final piece of music, Days by the Kinks, was played. As this piece inevitably finished, Stephen told us that our farewell to Marilyn had come to an end. The switch was pressed to close the curtains. A door opened, a man walked into the chapel and the spell was broken.

The 10 of us quietly left the chapel and gathered for a few minutes to hug and collect the floral tributes to take back to Lancaster Road.

We joined everyone else at the house rather late, having taken a wrong turning to exit the cemetery and then put the postcode incorrectly into the satnav. When we arrived I had a gin and tonic, our shared choice of drink with Marilyn on countless occasions. We sat and grazed and drank, all the while chatting, mostly about Marilyn. There was that impossible hope that she would appear in the doorway.

A few hours slipped by and, finally, before we departed, we toasted Marilyn with Prosecco.