Earth to Earth

I flew down the M5 last night to attend a glittering film premiere at Arnos Vale. That’s Arnos as in the Lancastrian ‘tha knows’, it doesn’t rhyme with thermos, I heard a bit of that from foreigners who’d come up from Bath. Sorry, no idea who Arno was. Correctly it should be Arno’s. Enough quibbling. I like the M5, it is the holiday motorway. And my wife is a Bristolian; her gran and granfer are buried in Arno’s Vale and I had instructions to say hello to them. Everything about the expedition was promising.

As darkness fell I felt no regret that the cemetery would be in blackout when I got there. I hate Victorian cemeteries with their vainglorious monuments to rich dead guys – though I do get an unquestionably questionable kick out of seeing them succumb to oblivion, the tendrils reaching up, the kerbs burst by insouciant weeds, the statuary slowly nosediving.

In the darkness it actually looks lovely – feels Italian. I may have to re-think after seeing it once more in daylight. They’ve just spent £4.8 million restoring it – but I think there are question marks over its sustainability now that the money is spent and they must generate an income. I did manage to see the old cremator in the basement of the Non-conformist chapel. I hoped to be able to find a photo of it but can’t. Well worth a look if you’re a death anorak, and there’s a bonus, they still have their original cremulator, a huge and cumbersome Heath Robinson construction capable probably of pulverising Kryptonite.

The film premiere was in the Anglican mortuary chapel. No red carpet, no paps, no screaming, but they were all there all the same, the megastars of death: Ken West, who begat natural burial;Rosie Inman-Cook of the NDC; James Leedam of Native Woodland; Ian Quance, president of the ICCM; Stephen Laing, the man who created the Bereavement Services portal, and his wife; Professor Tony Walter and a very nice PhD student I met at last year’s CDAS summer conference whose name I have forgotten. Much nattering ensued. Ian Quance is the bereavement services supremo in Exeter. He offers his clients a menu a bit like those menus you get in some Chinese restaurants. On it are pictures of graves in various states of decoration. You choose the one you like and your dead person gets buried with folk of similar aesthetic values and doesn’t get encircled by Poundlandish neighbours — unless he/she is Poundlandish, of course. What a good idea, we all said. “It’s not for me,” he said, “to tell people how to grieve.” Then we were hushed.

Hannah Rumble, who has recently finished her PhD at Durham University, talked about natural burial and gave us some interesting historical perspectives on it. Then she showed us the film Earth to Earth, which was recently shot by Sarah Thomas, a visual anthropologist, and was created with some input from  Hannah as an academic consultant at the pre-production stage, and Prof. Douglas Davis, who has written some very good books and is a very nice man. 

The film explores “the concepts, motivations and behaviours aligned with the case study natural burial site known as Barton Glebe, located a few miles West of Cambridge, and one of only two natural burial sites in the UK affiliated to the Church of England.” Lots of interviews with people saying why they like it and what it means to them. Beautifully made, lots to think about, and a great advertisement for natural burial except possibly for the bit where the C of E man says it’s not just for dropouts, which made Ken splutter a bit. All in all we loved it and someone said it ought to be on the telly. Well done, Hannah. Especially well done Sarah, who did the hard camerawork! You can find Sarah’s blog here.

Quotes of the night were from Tony Walter. He observed that, so far has nature reclaimed Arno’s Vale, it is itself an example of natural burial, albeit an ironic one. Then he reflected that the Brits took to cremation early, and invented (reinvented) natural burial. Why so innovative? Because we don’t re-use grave spaces as they do on the continent – we darn well have to be. Gosh he’s bright. He’ll go far.

Saving the people’s crem from the people’s undertaker

Things are at last hotting up in Burton upon Trent, where the local council and the borough council, joint owners of nearby Bretby crematorium, are considering a sell-out to Midlands Co-op for around £8 million.

Local undertakers are rubbing their hands with glee. The Co-op is the most gleeful, of course. Other fans of the move are Wellings Funeral Service, W Newton and Son, JH Grice Funeral Services, and Ward & Brewin Funeral Service. All these businesses… ah, you’ve guessed it. Yes, they all belong to Midlands Bloody Co-op.

There are just two genuinely independent FDs serving the good people of Burton and environs. They are S & L Murray and J Hylton & Sons. Hylton’s have started a petition against the sell-out; Sue Murray has written at sad and furious length to the local paper.

There has been no consultation with the public about the proposed sell-out, and it is difficult to discern a motive. There is a theory that the public sector couldn’t run a whelk stall, but Bretby crem is run by conspicuously nice, kind and helpful people – and it makes a profit. It seems to need no gigantic refurbishment. It is highly regarded.

And it belongs to the people, who haven’t been consulted.

If the Co-op succeeds in its bid, it will have a virtual monopoly on funeral services in Burton.

I very much hope that, even at this late stage, when the sale already begins to look like a done deal, the people of Burton will make enough noise to stop it.

Coffin price war on eBay?

Coffins have been coming up for sale on eBay from time to time for a few years, but not in a dependable flow. That may be about to change. Carl Marlow’s Coffin Company has a nice selection at keen prices and I guess he’s in there to stay. You can always tell which is a Carl coffin. He likes to photograph his standing up.

And, I see, my old friend Granlite of Clickfunerals is back with a couple of nice ones plus a good selection of ashes urns. I last corresponded with Granlite over a year ago. He/she has been a bit on and off but is back, I hope, to stay.

Carl’s prices look pretty good to me. The opening bid on his two wicker ones is £195, the Buy It Now price £275. He has a trad oak veneer, lined, with an opening bid of £175 and a Buy It Now price of £235. There’s an additional delivery charge in all cases of £30.

But Clickfunerals are offering a lined oak veneer at an even keener price: £199 + free delivery.  The product description leaves a heck of a lot to be desired and does not necessarily inspire confidence.

Undercut that, though, and you’re in business.

Coffin Co here. Clickfunerals here.

Roundup

The last ten days or so in tweets. I only tweet good stuff, remember — all the best death stories from around the world. These are all worth checking out.


DIY suicide causes horrible death, claims EXIT. Time to legalise? http://bit.ly/ffDoI1

 

Online site in memo of Stephen Ross – http://bit.ly/hxUArO Contains this irresistible invite: Click here to contact Steven Ross.

 

“Maybe my ride’s over. It’s surreal, but it’s nothing to be sad about. Be happy.” Brave woman dying – http://bit.ly/hmArkI

 

Nice funeral for a nice guy – http://bit.ly/hO1zzJ My top funeral band? Gotta be Green Street – http://youtu.be/Z7J5Q5PZS8o

 

Funeral of a friend – of an Anglican priest. I do like this man –http://bit.ly/h8zY0c

 

Obituarist reviews death play – “It’s not a happy show, but it’s fun.” Interesting thoughts here – http://nyti.ms/dEsqcx

 

Dead Swede does a runner – http://bit.ly/ialeGV

 

Japan cemetery loyalty card + tomb of the year award to spur competitive mourning – http://tinyurl.com/48ps5we

 

Green funerals in the US going the way of the quick buck — as in the UK, sadly – http://bit.ly/hBV9LL

 

“We said we’d give it six months and it lasted 40 years.” Husband’s funeral tribute. Lovely one, this – http://bit.ly/fwABwj

 

Elvis Presley dies of pneumonia in Yorkshire care home –http://bit.ly/eYD008

 

Interesting article from The Guardian on death and the scenery of lifehttp://gu.com/p/2nhc3/tw

 

Transhumanists seek immortality through bio-engineering. Fools or realists? http://bit.ly/WsBUY

 

Mummified Ming woman discovered in China. Very good pics –http://bit.ly/eUBQAL

 

Man kills himself for love at girlfriend’s grave – http://bit.ly/fMLu4F

 

Shallow grave cake here: http://bit.ly/i7nJAm

 

Just bought my ticket to this natural burial event at Arnos Vale. Anyone else going? http://bit.ly/hiDvOP

 

Prisoner on death row wants to donate his organs –http://nyti.ms/f4vx2O

 

‘Ain’t no grave can hold my body down’ – Johnny Cash. Just discovered it – http://youtu.be/m3MkUMzBAUg

 

A difficult but in the end beautiful funeral in a nursing home –http://bit.ly/esz8yy

 

“With a flood tide on a new moon, March 4th, 2011, John pulled up anchor to set sail for new horizons”

 

“I haven’t heard anyone say ‘I’m sorry we had a home funeral'” –http://youtu.be/ccN5pKaJa3U

 

Man wins permission to be buried with his dogs. Heartwarming –http://bit.ly/fCbkDt

 

Dignity plc, gluttonous undertaker, banks £39.8 million profit. Lucky shareholders; unlucky consumers – http://bit.ly/eKo3zV

 

Magazine calls on readership to write their own obit and get it in “in good time” You’ll love this! – http://bbc.in/htAi3M

 

“It felt as if the house had been cleaned out after the funeral, as though the place had been burgled.” Great story – http://bit.ly/ejx66K

 

The Southern (US) way of death. delightful. http://bit.ly/geR55w

 

 

 

Sceptr’d loony bin?

Some invective from this week’s Spectator. It is by Florence King.

Being English-American can be depressing. For years I thought about giving up my American citizenship and becoming a Brit to get my blood and my nationality lined up without the interference of a hyphen, but then something made me change my mind with a vengeance: Princess Diana’s funeral.  I spent three stunned days staring at the TV screen and thinking My God, they’ve turned into us! It wasn’t England any more, just a sceptre’d loony bin set in a sea of rotting flora, a UK of Utter Kitsch where the crud de la crud built teddy bear temples to a gilded hysteric who resembled nothing so much as Judy Garland with a title. I told myself that if I must live in a country where people who once tipped their hats now tipped the scales, I might as well stay at home and save myself the trouble of remembering to look right instead of left to avoid an oncoming hog speeding up the wrong side of the road. My hyphen, right or wrong.


There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so

I don’t know where you stand on literary criticism. I’ve never been a fan, largely because I don’t understand it. Many years ago I taught for a while, and I was charged with showing fifteen year-olds how to back-seat drive Shakespeare and other quite good writers. Despairing of my teaching methods, my students would resort to buying exam cribs so that they could teach themselves. They would come to class wanting to test me about themes and symbolism and other stuff that left me standing with my mouth open. They all did pretty well in their exams, though. The best things we learn at school are the things we find out for ourselves. Very bad teachers are especially inspiring in this respect. I ought to say inspirational, but I won’t.

I was much keener on literary celebration. I encouraged my students to clap and whoop when they encountered something they really liked – a great idea, a well-turned phrase, some yummy assonance. I hope they retained something of this spirit.

The critical faculty can go both ways. Lit crit teaches us what’s good and why. It teaches us taste. It teaches us to be discriminating. And here comes the downside: it teaches us to discriminate against. One measure of cleverness is its ability to demonstrate that something lots of people think is really rather good is, in actual fact, complete crap. I’ve always preferred open-eyed wonderment to narrow-eyed appraisal. I’m not saying I’m right. But I do think that schools teach clever kids to sneer.

If you take a lit crit yardstick to most of the poetry declaimed at funerals you’ll agree that most of it falls short of the highest rank. Try as they may to interest their clients in summat a bit posh, celebrants find it all but impossible to stop them from going downmarket, pouncing on some Poundland stuff about stairways to heaven and how God only takes the best, then asking the celebrant to read it. As practical jokes go, this is a pretty good one to play on an educated person.

Does the literary quality of funerals matter? Of course not. The only thing that matters is the testimony of hurting hearts (Tony Piper’s phrase). Celebrants can attach far too much value to a well-wrought script.

The iniquity of literary snobbery is well exposed by the poem young Ryan Mayes wrote for his murdered girlfriend Nikitta Grender:

 

My love for you runs so deep, it is hard for me to sleep.

I miss you both so much and I know all our plans and hopes are now in my dreams.

I never thought the Lord would take you both away from me so soon.

Just a thought of you makes me cry, I never had a chance to say goodbye.

I always smell your scent, it makes me think of all the times we’ve spent.

So many things I never got to say Babe, the day God took you a part of me died too.

But now I have to let you rest although my world’s a mess.

I miss you both and will love you ‘til the day I die.

Your heartbroken boyfriend Ryan XXX.

Account of the funeral here. Don’t miss the family member with the pink hair.

Shouldering responsibility

You will have your own feelings about a coffin being carried on shoulders of undertakers.

It unsettles me. I don’t like to see those big men in black macs in such a close relationship with the body. It wouldn’t do for any of mine. I don’t want men I’ve never met carrying anyone of mine.

That’s a point of view, and points of view are not prescriptive. Lots of people like to see a coffin shouldered in this traditional and dignified way, and I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong. But I would be perfectly happy to expand on my disinclination.

There is obvious symbolism in raising high the dead person. But to rest the weight on one shoulder? Bio-mechanically speaking, it’s not a sensible thing to do. Spines hate it. It would make much better physical sense for bearers to carry the coffin on the tops of their heads in much the same way African women carry water pots. But that would look wrong, would it?

Sure, you don’t need to be a skilled bearer to hang on safely to a shouldered coffin. Rookies do it all the time, clinging in some terror to the jacket on the other side. But whoever does it, it doesn’t look comfortable. It looks hesitant and a bit wobbly, especially going up steps or through doors. Bio-mechanics are against it. It’s against nature. It’s also against women. How often do you see a woman shouldering a coffin?

I like to see family members and friends carry a coffin – if there are enough of them. I’d go so far as to say that it’s a duty owed. In life, in death, in the words of the U2 song, ‘We get to / Carry each other.’ Carrying the coffin is something people who don’t deliver eulogies, read poems, arrange flowers, can do. A good funeral is one where people shoulder responsibility and do as much of what needs to be done as they can. Taking the weight is in itself symbolic.

But a coffin needs to be carried at arm’s length. That way, everyone can join in. Women, children, the old. Four or five down each side, one at the head and another at the foot, some perhaps only making physical contact. In relays, if necessary, as they still do in parts of Scotland.

It creates a much better mood. In my opinion.

Music: consolation for life

If you didn’t catch the BBC Radio 4 programme Soul Music last week, you can still hear it on Listen Again. It’s worth it.

Soul Music is a long-running series which just seems to get better and better. The format is simple: snippets of interviews with all sorts of people interwoven with the chosen piece of music. You hear it afresh.

The programme on Mozart’s clarinet quintet was outstanding. It was discussed by, mostly, clarinettists. One talked of how he had played it at two weddings and a funeral – and he wondered if there was another piece of music that could work for both.

The valedictory tone of the piece emerged as a common thread. One man described how his mother listened to it as she lay dying – it was the very last thing she heard. Another said it makes him feel as if a relative is about to die – the moment is very serene; the music celebrates the life about to end, and is terribly sad at the same time. The effect is similar on clarinettist Jack Brymer. After playing it he says he feels very complete, as if someone very old and wise has died and you feel very sad that they’ve gone but glad that you knew them.

Another man describes the extraordinary effect it had on him when he was in a coma – much to the amazement of his doctors. It seems that we remain conscious of music when we’re conscious of nothing else. To him, the clarinet quintet sounded like the voice of a woman singing an Indian raag.

Half an hour well spent – you won’t regret it. Funny, isn’t it, how people (rather exhibitionistically, perhaps) delight in choosing their funeral music, but you very rarely hear anyone specify what they want to hear as they lie dying. We should.

Click for the BBC iPlayer here.

Thought for the day delivered by the Rev Dr Giles Fraser on the R4 Today programme this morning was also terrific. It began:

One of the great privileges of being a priest is that I often get the opportunity to be with people when they die. It frequently astonishes me that, despite the ubiquity of death, this is something a great many people have never actually seen. Little wonder we’re so frightened of death. It used to be something public, but now it’s pushed out of life. Whereas we used to die at home surrounded by friends and family, we now die in hospitals, often alone and hidden behind expensive technology.

Read the rest here.

Who needs ’em?

In their new book, Final Rights (they gave me a sneak preview), Joshua Slocum, Executive Director of the Funeral Consumers Alliance, and Lisa Carlson, Executive Director of the Funeral Ethics Organisation, will publish state by state tables demonstrating how many excess funeral directors there are in the US. They base their calculation on the head of population it takes to keep an undertaker busy. Too many undertakers means too few funerals. The consequent cost of wages plus maintenance of premises and vehicles drives the cost of funerals up. Two a week’s not enough.

It’s an interesting exercise, and I was for a while tempted to suppose that the same ratio applies in this country. We have too many undertakers, that’s for sure. How many fewer ought there to be?

And then I reflected that we have three sorts of undertaker in Britain: the old school dinosaurs, businesses which have moved with the times; and the bright young things – the new start-ups. We are in the middle of an important and dynamic evolutionary phase. We don’t need to kill any off, there’s going to be a Darwinian dying off, and my money’s on the up-to-date and the bright young things surviving: those who are genuinely fresh or renewed in their outlook – the idealistic ones – and most certainly not the replica dinosaurs who are inspired by vanity merely (and there are a few of those).

Today I went to visit a new start-up, Bespoke Funerals. I always enjoy calling in at this poignant phase of business development and drinking in the heady mixture of excitement and terror. They’re ready to go – but the phone hasn’t rung yet. WILL IT??!! It’s a desperately slow and uncertain business, getting off the ground.

The business belongs to Maggie Brinklow, sometime guest poster on this blog. She is working in conjunction with Mark Elliott, who will be using her premises and recruiting clients further north. Together, they make a great team – independent of each other and also collaborative.

Both, of course, have had experiences in the funeral industry which make them determined to do things differently, as they think they ought to be done. They are part of an emerging orthodoxy of gloom-free premises, a front window you can see through, an open-ended arrangements meeting and the creation of, well, as they themselves put it, bespoke funerals.

I think they’re going to be great. They come to it with experience as well as idealism. Mark is a wonderfully gifted embalmer; Maggie is a civil celebrant. Above all, they are incredibly nice people. The only anxiety which declared itself, as we chatted, was what people would think if they looked into an undertaker’s window and saw people laughing. They do it all the time.

Do we need yet another undertaker? No! Do we need these undertakers? YES! It’s up to them to create an awareness of that need – that’s business – and I very much hope they will. Good luck!