No doubt this is partly the material principle of thrift that, as it can transform funeral bakemeats
into a wedding banquet, can transform male into female.
(Of course, the hero of the hour was Babyface Blair, with the catch in his throat and the future shining on his brow, but we'll come to him later.) Now that the bloom is off the New Labor rose and the funeral bakemeats
are cold, there's a chance to look again at What It All Means--as if we ever stopped.
Clearly it puts paid to Eccles's conjecture about Chettle's death: if Chettle was alive on 6 October, funeral bakemeats
would not even have reached the oven three days later.