coffins

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. 

A retired couple in Northumberland have discovered that an unregarded planter in their garden is in fact a Roman sarcophagus dating from the first or second century AD. They stand to make £100,000 by selling it at auction. Full story in the Daily Mail here. 

FACT: The word ‘sarcophagus’ derives from the ancient Greek word ‘sarkophagos’, meaning ‘flesh-eater’. Ancient Greeks believed that the stone consumed the flesh of the occupant. 

“Nice guys”, they say, “don’t win ball games.” Well, maybe they don’t – but they certainly make nice coffins. Here’re two of them.

First, come with me to Scotland to the tiny fishing village of Johnshaven (above) and meet Robert Lawrence and his wife, Charlotte. In his workshop Robert, artist and lover of wood, makes the Honest Coffin. It’s a plain, pine box. It’s made from Scottish larch. No chemicals, no polish, no stain. No screws, either: Robert uses oak dowels. And it’s strong – strong as can be. Robert describes the making process as creative, not production line.

What got him into coffins? He went to some funerals, didn’t much like what he saw and decided to do better. We rather think he has.

Robert sells only through the trade except to families acting as their own funeral director, to whom he will sell direct.

Come with me now to Woodbridge in Suffolk and meet Martin Wenyon, another lovely person. He’s a naval architect who’s had an eventful life which, recently, entailed looking after forests and castles in Bohemia. He makes his coffins from imported timber, but he’s soon switching over to native timber. They’re almost, possibly just not quite, as eco-friendly as Honest Coffins. Martin’s are painted, and lend themselves to decoration, which is why he is currently forming partnerships with artists and marketing a range of Coffins by Artists.

Martin sells his coffins direct to the public. £485 +  free delivery within 100 miles of Woodbridge. 

They’re key fobs. Available here.

2. Experiences of a coffineer

What’s in a name?

Before I start this piece I should just say (and I think it’s completely appropriate given the subject of this particular post) that this post was very, very close to being titled “The experiences of a confiner”. Not because I thought this was a particularly good title or the fact that I like the idea of being the ultimate confiner, so to speak, but solely due to the power of the Blogger spell-check / auto-correct function.

Yes, the bloggers’ tool had decided in its wisdom that “Confiner” was a better word than “Coffineer” and had tried to outwit me by sneaking in the change. It was only at the last second, as my cursor hovered perilously close to the “Publish” button, that I spotted its dastardly plan and changed it back. You see, the word “Coffineer” for some unknown reason does not actually appear in the OED the Collins or any other dictionary for that matter and so in a way the computer blog thing was right…or was it?

Anyway, back to the stor,y which takes place over a pint or two of Shepherd Neame’s finest ale at the Vine Inn in Tenterden. I was enjoying a drink in the warmth of the bar with my partner, Holl,y and our two friends Barry and Izzy, who had been minding our collection of Curve coffins whilst we packed up the “stall” after the aforementioned late night shopping evening.

As previously mentioned, I had been frozen to the core with nothing but a Woodchurch Scouts’ alcohol free mulled wine – if there can be such a thing – and a last-minute, lifesaving portion of Bob’s chips (bought to me by the delightful Holly) after 4 hours in the freezing cold and so was in desperate need of a pint or two of the amber nectar in the warmth of this fine hostelry.

It was a particularly busy night but we managed to secure a few inches of carpet close to the bar. We are pretty good friends with one of the managers at this particular drinking hole, what with him being a fully paid up member of Equity and what with three of us also treading the boards on occasion, the conversation soon turned to the events of the night and how we were getting on with this ‘ere coffin making malarky.

After explaining that we had had a good night despite some “raised eyebrows” – see later post to come courtesy of Kentish Express – Fraser, for that is the bar manager’s name, asked what the formal address should be for a coffin maker of distinction. Was it a Coffinista, a simple box maker, a death chippie, a screwer and banger or what?

So I, in my finest anglo-saxon, and at the top of my voice, proudly declared “I am a Coffineer – All for one and one for all!”

1. The late night shopping experience

Posted by Andy Clarke 

ED’S NOTE — We have featured Andy’s adventures with his innovative Curve coffin from the very beginning. Here, he describes the experience of exhibiting at a Christmas shopping event organised by his local Chamber of Commerce in Tenterden, Kent. 

And so it came to pass, on a cold winter’s evening in deepest darkest Kent, that I found myself ferrying freshly made and painted Curve coffins back and forth between my small farm-based workshop and the 8 by 8 high street plot that was to be my pitch for the evening. 

Now, I wholeheartedly agree that, perhaps, coffins are possibly not everyone’s obvious first choice as a stocking filler, but as newly signed up members of the local Chamber of Commerce, Wealden Coffins were invited to attend the Christmas late night shopping event alongside other local businesses and organisations. We were positioned in a prime position alongside a local scout group and the Kent Air Ambulance and opposite a local hostelry from whence came an abundance of festive entertainment. A good pitch I thought although without any of the usual mod cons – gazebo, outside lighting, thermal underwear etc. 

I say ferrying (above) since at this moment in time we are not in possession of a sensible vehicle for the carriage of coffins and so they sit proudly on the roof bars of my resourceful Renault Clio. As you can imagine, this spectacle alone has raised many an eye in the Kent countryside and further afield as we transport our coffins around the country. However, we’ve used this tried and tested method on several occasions to deliver our beautiful coffins to funeral directors as far afield as Brighton (around 30 miles) and Central London (around 50 miles – which included a fair jog around the M25 en route). 

Whilst delivering a sample to ARKA in Brighton last year, at one point we found ourselves in a funeral convoy, with a traditional hearse up front, a funeral limousine and then our little Clio with one of our coffins aloft. Fortunately, in many ways, the Curve doesn’t really look like a traditional coffin and so I think many people assume we are just transporting a painted ottoman. 

Anyway, eventually I was all set up and raring to go in the high street with three of our Curve coffins on trestles (2 of which were hand painted and a third which was plain timber), a stack of marketing literature and details of our exciting “Design a coffin” competition! First prize a £20 Amazon voucher! 

Despite the cold – and blimey it was cold! – quite a few people had braved the weather to enjoy the festivities, take in the sights and fill themselves on free mince pies and mulled wine from the various stalls and shops that were open. And very soon I started to get people stopping and looking and pointing and even a few people who wanted to chat. 

I always knew that it could be quite controversial to have a coffin stall at a Christmas late night shopping event – well, it’s not normal is it? – and I think the Chamber of Commerce were quite brave in their decision to invite us but I was quite surprised at the level of interest we received. We had a very mixed reaction from people as they passed but reaction we did get as well as some interesting follow-up PR from the local press. 

Interestingly, the majority of people didn’t seem to realise that I was promoting coffins. I had many people rush up to me asking, “What are they?” and swiftly followed up with an “I knew they were” or an “I told you so” or even an “that’s five quid you owe me” when I confirmed that they were indeed coffins. 

I must admit I did get a few people who suggested that it wasn’t particularly festive and even one gentleman who muttered under his breath, but loud enough to make his feelings heard, that it was “bloody outrageous”. But at the same time I received a lot of very positive feedback from people who wanted to talk about the interesting new look of our coffins, were pleased that we had brought a “taboo” and hidden away subject out into the open, who were interested in the construction of the strange curved coffins or who were just interested in having a chat. 

Extraordinarily, following a conversation with the event organiser, we may also have the potential of exhibiting one of our coffins at Godington House, during their annual “sculpture in the gardens” exhibition! 

So, all in all, a pretty good evening I thought, despite eventually losing the feeling in both my feet and my fingers, and definitely something that I would do again. It was a real eye-opener to see how the public reacted to our presence and yet the praise we received far outweighed any negative sentiment. I think it is time that we brought our industry out into the open and let people see some of the options available to them before they have to make a purchase!

Cessation is a leading signifier of death — discontinuance, expiration, quietus. 

Not, it seems, if you are a member of the House of Lords (which, the record shows, you are not, you are a commoner, so there). 

Speaking after being defeated in his bid to be elected as a police commissioner, John Prescott said: 

“I’m not going to be sitting around in my slippers. I will be campaigning in my coffin. This is the beauty of being in the Lords, I’m still involved politics.”

Sounds like zombie politics to us.