That bloody box

“This was a funeral that celebrated unity. Like all other funerals. That bloody box: the awful finality: the dreadful unduckable certainty that life has to come to an end.

So of course it was the same today. We knew she was dead, and all of us, no matter how little interest we take in politics, have been talking about her life — and how some people thought she was great and some people thought she wasn’t and how some people thought a state funeral was great and how others thought it brought back the divisions of the 1980s. 

But in the end it was the usual infinitely solemn, infinitely banal parading of a box with the usual unspeakable contents. The flag and gun-carriage and the marching bands and the statuesque airmen with reversed arms outside the church of St Clement Danes in the Strand didn’t try to conceal the fact it contained death. 

Miners and policemen, tycoons and street-sleepers, liberals and authoritarians, winners and losers, wets and drys, warmongers and pacifists, the cruel and the compassionate, the bullies and the gentle: every funeral you ever go to reminds you that in the end there are no divisions between us. Death is the ultimate unity. 

Why should the funeral of Baroness Thatcher be any different?”

Simon Barnes in The Times

From the ashes of Winterwillow…

Sad news for all fans of Winterwillow, the social enterprise of the WinterComfort charity for homeless people which enabled service users to develop basketweaving skills by making wicker coffins. The trustees have discontinued the project.

All is not lost. Roger Fowle, lead tutor on the project, has set up on his own.

Roger has three things going for him. First, he’s a lovely human being. Second, he’s a first-rate craftsperson. Third, he is very happy to have his customers join with him in making their coffin, doing what they feel comfortable to do — or just being there if they want. 

Roger has a got a rudimentary website up, which you can see here

You can ring him on: 07875 768 843

We hope that, if you are in a position to support Roger, you will. He is based in Fowlmere, a few miles south of Cambridge. 

De mortuis nil nisi bonum

Pace the spirit of the age, a celebration-of-life funeral does not fit everybody. Nasty, bad, horrible people die, too. We refrain from holding celebration-of-death funerals for them, preferring instead to curtail, allude and acknowledge, to a degree, often disguising our meaning between the lines. Difficult people die, too. They often mean different things to different people. As any celebrant or undertaker will tell you, they’re possibly the hardest of the lot. 

Mrs Thatcher was one of the latter. In the shadow of the old idea that one mustn’t speak ill of the dead, there’s been a lot of talk about what we may and what we mustn’t say about her just now, before she’s had her funeral. 

In the Independent, the philosopher AC Grayling wrote this:

Why should one not speak as one did when the person was alive? The story of a prominent individual’s life cannot be complete without the truth about what people felt at the moment of summing up, whether it is in mourning or rejoicing. Let us say what we think, and be frank about it: death does not confer privileges.

Respect for the dead is a hangover from a past in which it was believed that the dead might retain some active influence on the living, and that one might re-encounter them either in this life or a putative next life.

Future historians will be glad that people have begun to speak frankly of their estimations of major figures when they die. Frank opinions explain far more than the massaged and not infrequently hypocritical views expressed in obsequies [he means eulogies, of course].

The democratic value of frank expression of opinions about public figures and public matters should not be hostage to squeamishness or false ideas of respect – let us respect ourselves instead, and say what we truly feel.

In The Times, Libby Purves responded thus:

In November 1990 a young Quaker was staying with us. He was even more anti-Thatcher than me, but as the news of her fall from office came, he took George Fox’s advice to “walk cheerfully across the world, answering that of God in every one” and muttered unironically: “I hope she’ll be happy.”

The nastiness of the past few days on the streets, online and sometimes in print raises a bigger question about our attitude to death itself. Traditionally it “pays all debts” and you do not insult the newly deceased at least until after the funeral and family shock, when history may claim its due. To dance in the streets when a dictator falls is understandable, so is the soldier who, fresh from extreme danger, high-fives at a successful shot. But we don’t let the soldier urinate on the corpse. We bury enemies decently. We acknowledge the fellowship of mortality.

For the modish entrepreneurial philosopher Professor A. C. Grayling, this is nonsense. “Do we owe the dead respect, even if we disagreed with them?” he pipes scornfully. For him the Bitch-Is-Dead celebrations are “understandable and justifiable” and “death does not confer privileges”. Respect is “a hangover from a past in which it was believed that the dead might retain some active influence on the living”. He likens it to Chinese ancestor worship. “Honouring the dead is not only a form of remembrance but propitiation.”

Concluding, Professor Grayling condemns “false” respect and smirks: “Let us respect ourselves instead.” There lies all the smug, narrow, self-regarding, inhumane, mechanistic aridity of atheist academe. Thank goodness he’s still alive, so I can say so straightaway.

Finally, on Facebook, and not à propos Thatcher, the celebrant Lol Owen wrote this:

I’ve written services for some right swine. For my own father’s service, who definitely had many faults, there was nothing to be gained from disclosing any of them. It would in no way validate our feelings towards him, and only diminish him in the eyes of others. Those who know the truth will gain nothing from shouting it from the rooftops. Rather, they will look small people.

The word ‘progressive’ is overused and overrated

Posted by Richard Rawlinson

A follow-up to Charles Cowling’s thirst-quenching piece about the need for independent undertakers to blow their trumpets louder to steal market share from the corporate chains, here. 

It’s my hunch that some indies should stop perceiving themselves as niche, fringe and progressive, and instead project themselves as mainstream.

Why? There’s an abundance of eco-aware, price-conscious, non-religious, internet-savvy folk out there who see all their traits as the norm, unremarkable. They don’t book an atheist or new age civil celebrant to make a political stand against organised religion, but because their choice seems second nature. They don’t order a picnic hamper-style coffin and woodland burial ground as an eco-campaign against gratuitous embalming, but because it’s right for their personal needs. Ditto when they choose a budget funeral director to drive the body to the early-morning crem slot, and then deliver the ashes to the bereaved to do with them what they want, when they want.

People are used enough to variety in the market place not to feel radical when choosing a bespoke indie over a corporate brand. I became aware of this when recently furnishing a weekend escape in Clifton, Bristol. My first port of call was the internet as the Saturday shopping scrum is purgatory after a week in the office. Shopping from home, you can readily find the price and style you want with purchases delivered to your door. Sometimes, an online retailer has gained trust as a familiar high street brand, but other times you discover a hidden gem: I couldn’t resist a portrait made from driftwood by a guy in Cornwall—visitors gasp at its uncanny likeness to yours truly.

IKEA may be a success but there are those who feel nauseous at the inconvenience of shopping in an out-of-town warehouse, having to assemble purchases themselves and ending up with rickety tat. John Lewis succeeds among those content to pay a bit more for quality and service. Then again, I bypassed both when opting for a Georgian bureau, ordered online from an antique dealer as far afield as Yorkshire: the craftsmanship and romance of secret drawers couldn’t be matched by contemporary brands. Antiques also allow you to feel smug about recycling and supporting the little man.

The Cornwall artisan or antique dealer sniffed out online wouldn’t class themselves as ‘progressive’, with its undertones of challenging the status quo. Like Camra real ales, they’re in fact charmingly timeless, nostalgic even.

Despite commercial claims to the contrary, there’s little that’s new and much to be learned from past traditions. Live music at funerals is certainly not progressive. It’s superb that groups of musicians and singers (Malu Swayne’s No Sad Songs and Tim Clark’s Threnody are enriching ceremonies with music, but the concept is, thankfully, as old as the hills. Only it’s been lost in the modern age.

Crematoria were deemed genuinely progressive when they were introduced in the early 20th century. Today’s quest for more meaning and ritual is an acceptance that modernism in fact destroyed much that we cherish. It’s time to wind back the clock.

The Socialist Workers’ Party no doubt thought it was progressive to put on the cover of its newspaper a mock-up of Margaret Thatcher’s gravestone and the words ‘Rejoice’ . In fact they expose themselves as nasty dinosaurs while Maggie goes down in history as the Prime Minister who achieved more true progress than any other in recent times when it came to changing Britain for the better.

It would be progress if independent undertakers were perceived, not as fringe campaigners, but as mainstream companies that have rejected the profit-driven, merchandise-centric practices of the corporates. In grief in particular, people see financial manipulation as a betrayal of trust. The emphasis of any communications that reach out to the public should be on serving the emotional and spiritual needs of funeral planners. The indies should make a commodity out of traditional services and products and establish a new experienced-based value and pricing formula.
 Their strength should be to guide a family through the arrangement process and towards healing.


Customer expectations are low. Market opportunity is high for those who successfully become a part of the healing professions. Maggie would be so proud.

May we all unlearn our fear of death

There’s a good review of the Natural Death Handbook, fifth edition, in the Huffington post. Here are some extracts: 

The Natural Death Centre, the charity behind The Natural Death Handbook, exists to help re-open the dialogue about life’s end, offering a combination of practical advice, how-tos, go-tos, and reflections that inspire, comfort and challenge. At the heart of the movement is a commitment to death as a natural part of life. No longer conceived of as a terror, death is refigured as the winding down of life’s frantic clock — and dying as a means of coming to terms with our identities, our loved ones, ourselves. The second major contribution of this movement is the reconsideration of our death practices, particularly the harmful effects of certain preservation techniques on the earth itself, that patient womb to which we are returned.

a new addition to this printing, is a collection — Writings on Death. Aptly described by the editor, Ru Callender, as “smoked glass, through which together we might glimpse death’s outline,” these essays demonstrate a collective wisdom, courage and clarity in the face of our endings. Whether it be the inspired self-reflection of a mourner or the studied vision of the historian — or the creative spiritualism of celebrants, practitioners and questioners of faith — the perspectives offered here might better be described as prism glass, refracting in full color. It is a great relief and respite from our often somber-hued considerations of death and dying, the best accompaniment I can think of for Death’s summer coat.

Read the whole review here

Buy your copy of the handbook here

Fight to the death

One of the things that’s changed is that ever so many people end up falling into the clutches of technology at the end of their lives. Something happens to them and the emergency response is to admit them to hospital – because the traditional view is that doctors are in a fight against death – that you have to ward off the evil death with everything you can.

But when death is coming, when it is inevitable, if you can actually help a person and a family to achieve a good death you’ve done a wonderful thing.

I think that there’s a lot of people who fear death. I don’t fear death at all, I just don’t. The idea for me of death is good, I can go to sleep. 

Dr Chris Abel, Islay

Watch it here.

Hat-tip: Mary Robson

They’re not patients. they’re dead

We have this kind of conflict with doctors sometimes when coming ringing on doors and kind of going like,

“Hello, I’m a doctor.”

“That’s lovely, what do you want?”

“I’ve come to see a body.”

“Will mine do? What do you mean by that? Oh, have you come to see a patient?”

“They’re not patients, they’re dead.”

“No no no, until they leave the doors of this hospital they are deceased patients. They may be a different classification, but they’re our patients, and that’s how we see them and that’s how we look after them.”

Ruby, mortuary technologist, St Thomas’s Hospital, London.

Watch here

Hat-tip: Mary Robson

No place like home

Now that most funeral directors have a website it’s a good time to review the way they receive visitors on their home page. It’s a darn difficult one to get right and no mistaking. After all, no one wants to buy a funeral. So how do you allay fears, define and differentiate yourself,  inspire warmth and trust? How do you address needs and wishes when you’ve only got a five seconds to hook them?

Here are some draft tips for FDs. I hope you will hone them with your customary no-holds-barred comments – and add some of your own.

Go easy on the ancestors

It’s cool to show your roots but they don’t actually make you any better than lots of first-generation businesses. Make genealogy relevant — and for goodness’ sake make sense. Avoid:

As a 5th generation independent family run concern, our success depends on your satisfaction.

Don’t make a bad thing worse

The last thing they want to hear is this: 

When you suffer bereavement, a funeral for a member of your family is the most difficult day of your life.

Park the cars

Funeral shoppers are looking for nice people, not people with nice cars. To most of them, all hearses look the same. 

Hide your status anxiety

Leading a funeral procession is a role you play. The first person they want to see in a photo is the real you.  Lighten up on the black and the fancy clobber — you don’t need to big yourself up. 

We like this photo   

But we concede that these two look terrific              

Cut the flowery twaddle

Don’t alienate yourself by talking like a bygone age. Write as people speak now.

As professional and compassionate funeral directors, we are conscious of the responsibility, trust and confidence bestowed upon us.

On initial contact we will ask for preliminary details, whereupon if the deceased has died at home, in hospital or in a private buy liquid tadalafil online nursing home we will advise the conveyance of the deceased to our private chapel.

We incorporate the profound values of honesty, trust and professionalism, offering an exclusive service for families and their loved ones.

Kill your jargon

Hygienic treatment and attendances to the deceased are considered to be very important by our company.

Do away with ‘disbursements’ and ‘floral tributes’. While you’re about it, try and avoid ‘caring’ and ‘dignified’, too, if you can. They’re a bit worn.

Talk to your reader, not about yourself

It is a rare privilege to be a funeral director, to stand in a sensitive position at a crucial time in the midst of your family

Proud to be an independant?

Then get your text professionally proofread.

If you can’t get the spelling, grammar and punctuation right on your own website, what does that say about your ability to arrange a funeral?

No one can be cremated untill the caurse of death is definitely known. There are two cremation certificates (forms B&C). Each must be signed by two different doctor’s.

PS it’s –dent.

Normal people know nothing about industry politics

If you want to diss the big beasts, make an intelligible case.

Continuity and a personal caring service are things that tend to be overlooked within larger conglomerates.

Talk price, talk up value

There’s no point in being a funeral director if you cannot define the value of a funeral. What good’s it going to do them?

Put their best interests first

Show your readers you’re on their side. Advise them to shop around, get at least three quotes and go with the FD they click with best. Invite them to ring you for a no-strings chat if they want. Make yourself likeable. 

All examples above from real websites.

And the GFG award (provisional) for the website which fires off most key messages quickest in the most palatable form is awarded to our sternest critic, Kingfisher Funeral Services of St Neot’s

Andy2

Maggie ding-dong spreads to the dead

Here’s an exchange between readers in the comments column of this article in the Guardian: 

@MMTRocks – Thatcher was elected because the country could see the chaos and corruption of Scargill and the Left. That is a fact. Can you even begin to imagine where this country would have been? Do you honestly think the mines would still be open? The Labour councils could not even bury our dead. And now you suggest an end to free-market economics. Please let us know of a successful working model so we can see how it’s done.
 
@brijl92 – Clearly you haven’t buried any of your dead lately. In strike-free Britain, in a Tory run area, it took me a fortnight to do so!
And that was pretty standard.
In our area of France, you know, that lefty dysfunctional state the Tories love to hate …. 3 to 4 days.
Hat-tip to Kathryn Edwards

Live funeral music provides profound solace

Posted by Malu Swayne, creator of No Sad Songs

ED’s NOTE: We have spent quite a lot of time talking to Malu and we think she is a thoroughly good thing. Classically trained herself, she has a wide range of really good musicians to call on. Like our friends at Threnody, we feel there’s nothing like the immediacy of live music at a funeral.

Death is the one certainty in life.  As a musician myself, I have always believed in the power of music to bring solace and help release feelings that otherwise remain locked inside us.

It is a sad fact that as we grow older we attend more funerals; and as this began to happen to me, I noticed that live music – other than occasionally an organ – only seemed to be used when there were friends or relatives of the deceased or bereaved who were themselves musicians. 

Unlike a wedding, when there are usually months between an engagement and the ceremony, a funeral usually happens very soon after a death, and many people are too shocked and upset to find and organise musicians in time.

The two things people remember most about a funeral are the weather and the music. We cannot control the weather; but we can make sure that the music is well chosen and of the highest quality.

During a funeral, a beautiful piece of music acts as a catalyst to release emotions, and provides an essential moment for every individual to say a private goodbye.

Music also lends dignity and structure to the occasion, and makes it unique and personal.  Whether at a funeral or memorial service, the eloquence of great music can transform a painful ordeal into an event which will be remembered for ever.

Another important element of a funeral is often the singing of hymns. It is depressing when hardly anyone sings them; but it is hard to do when fighting back tears. 

All too often, the priest ends up singing the hymns on his own.

This is where musicians can transform the atmosphere; but in churches which possess a regular choir, the members are usually at work during the week, and cannot be called upon.

In fact there is seldom the need for a large choir: a funeral is usually an intimate ritual, and four professional voices (soprano, alto, tenor and bass) are quite sufficient to lead and carry along the singing of hymns.

Recorded music is certainly better than no music, and for many popular songs or large-scale classical works CDs are the only practical solution.

But the benefits of live music cannot be exaggerated: it gives us a fleeting glimpse of timelessness, existing outside a world governed by the inexorable passing of minutes and ticking seconds.

It takes us into a dimension defined only by melody, pulse, rhythm and breath, in which a personal experience and response is engendered for each wife, husband, lover, parent, relative and friend.

Live music is therefore distinctive and profound – an experience in which the ordinary can be elevated into the extraordinary. 

Sometimes a death causes such utter grief that no words are adequate.  I recall being asked to provide music for a two-year-old boy’s funeral.

What can one do in such an appalling situation?  What can one say about such a pitifully short life? 

There was not even an organ in this church, and I remember thinking that if the parents hadn’t asked us to provide a harpist, the service would have been sadly arid and comfortless.  This proved to me that live music can help where words could only fail.

A live performance is by its very nature a unique event, and is therefore something specifically human, precious and vital in a world which is becoming more and more fast-driven, anonymous and mechanical.

Taking the time and trouble to arrange a private performance of a beautiful piece of music is perhaps the most special thing one can ever do for someone.

Some people may be nervous of hiring musicians for a funeral, thinking it would be too expensive; but when set against the overall funeral expenses, the cost of booking professional musicians is not prohibitive – and as a funeral expense it may be offset against inheritance tax.

Good musicians are highly skilled, and will always perform their best.  All mankind is touched by death; and musicians find it hugely rewarding to play or sing at funerals, where the consolation of music is so urgently needed.

This intimation of mortality reminds them of the value of their musical skills, and why they do what they do.

Naturally I am somewhat biased; but I would rather have a sublime or witty piece of music performed at my funeral by hand-picked musicians than an expensive coffin or any quantity of floral tributes. 

Flowers wither and are thrown away; live music remains in the mind for ever.

Quite simply: when a funeral is graced by well-chosen music beautifully performed by live musicians, the mourners leave feeling better than when they arrived.