The real test

Those who aren't involved in the business of dying assume, not unreasonably, that it's the emotional funerals (see last post) that are the most difficult.

They are not without their troubles and their wear and tear, it's true, but if we can genuinely feel that we are helping someone in the most awful of circumstances, then the "difficult" funerals can be rewarding and, perversely, very life affirming.

So what is really testing? Doing funerals for people that we can't stand.

Now, maybe it's just me - I'm a woman of a certain age who no longer feels the need to make everyone like me. That said, on the whole, I try to be fairly warm, sympathetic and friendly, so there aren't many people that I seriously fall out with.

But some families.......

I turned up for a meeting the other evening. The lady opened the door. I explained who I was and she looked me up and down before saying "oh" in a way that emcompassed disgust, displeasure and disappointment.

There are many possible reasons for this:
1) I'm no oil painting - but I did have clean, smart clothes on and my shoes weren't dirty. It's usually enough to get me in the door. She didn't give the impression of someone who worried a huge amount about being a picture of glamour.
2) She doesn't want to have need of a funeral celebrant. Perhaps this was just the way that her grief was coming out.
3) My name is one of those that, with an adjustment in spelling, can be for either gender - she may have been expecting a man.
4) She's not a very nice person.

To be honest, it was not an easy meeting. The family had elements of dysfunction about them and were not the most communicative. It was one of those times when I'm looking at my notes (pretending to read them) thinking "throw me a bone, here" and desperately trying to come up with a question that will get a response of more than two or three words.

Of course, I will do my best, but this lot have really got on my threepennies. They want a ridiculous number of pieces of music - I have explained that we probably won't hear more than a minute of each, and that will still be half of the ceremony time. At the end, I'll present them with a bible, a complete works of Shakespeare and ask them what their luxury item will be.

I have been waiting for over a week for more details, following a meeting between other family members (in another part of the country), and nothing has been forthcoming. I have a feeling I will be handed a piece of scrappy paper with a few handwritten notes at the chapel door and be expected to slot perfect prose in between hits from the golden age of songwriting.

Do you see the problem? Because these people weren't terribly welcoming, and not awfully friendly, my tolerance levels are far lower than the people who are complete fluff-heads, but kinder hearted.

The weakness is in me, I understand that and I will do my utmost to make sure that they never know just how irritating I find them - I will wear my best suit, my kindest smile and put every effort into the funeral.

And then I will never have to see those .... (insert word of choice here) again.

So how do we cope with these people? Well I do resort to childish name calling - readers of earlier posts may remember "That Bloody Man", and this lot will be forever known as "Freak Show", but only in the confines of X.Piry Towers, of course.

The other coping mechanism is "eye on the prize". By the end of funeral day, I will have completed my job with professionalism, the FD (and if this family have been a pain to me, there is a good chance that the FD has had problems, too), will be pleased with my work, and I can sit down in the evening, purring as contentedly as the cat on my lap.

I've talked in the past about my concerns for people after the funeral; a lack of "pastoral care", but in this case (and I'm not proud of it), I really don't give a monkeys.

Love and peace to all.

(Not so) silly season

It's quiet out there, too quiet.....

Yes, it's that time of year when the funeral directors have time to sit and chat (as it gives them a break from their filing and cleaning), and we watch our workload drop for the summer.

In some ways, it's a "breathing space" a chance to clear our heads ready for the next nasty cold snap.

In my limited experience, however, I've found that these things are self-balancing. There are not so many deaths, but those that do occur make for harder funerals. This week, I have a ceremony for a young lady in her thirties. It's a while since I've experienced that much tangible grief while visiting her family. I want to lessen their pain, but that is not something I am able to do or, frankly, have the right to do. Their grief is their own - I just have to hope that I can make them feel listened to and cared about.

And then, last week, I had a phone call. "You did Ethel Sludgebucket's funeral at Seatown a couple of months ago?"
"Yes I did."
"I was there, I thought it was very good."
"Thank you."
"It's just that my son died yesterday....."


I speak to my father every day. I started doing this after my Mum died to check that he was okay (I live a little distance away) and to make sure that he spoke to somebody every twenty four hours. As it turns out, he has a very full social calendar (we call the road where he lives his "harem") and talks to more people than I do. But he is a very good listener. I share these experiences with him, and he makes all the right noises.

I hope that all celebrants/ministers/officiants have someone like this. They make our job much easier, especially during the not so silly season.

Death of a supermarket revolutionary

So, Theo Albrecht, the man who, along with his brother, brought us the Aldi supermarket chain, has died.

According to the article, his funeral, a private burial, has already taken place.

But you know that you’re in the funeral business when you read about a death, and wonder how the ceremony will go.

Now, please understand, I mean no disrespect to Heir Albrecht or to his shops (I’m as happy to buy cheap groceries as anyone), but I began to ponder his funeral, if it was like a visit to one of his stores.

Of course, like a bargain laptop, everyone would have to wait until they’ve got a coffin available, so there could be a bit of a delay, and then a quick “window of opportunity”, while caskets are in stock.

On the day itself, mourners would arrive, but not too early, due to the restrictions on parking (can’t be more than an hour, or it won’t be free). The spaces would be small, and there is nowhere in particular for the hearse to go.

An order of service would be available, giving all of the details in eight different languages.

When the FD and his team arrive, they would look very like any other FD….but not quite. Their uniforms are slightly different, and don’t fit too well, but they cover all the important bits, so job done. The coffin is a little dented and scratched, but still serves its purpose.

The flowers would be just inside the door of the chapel, wrapped in bright cellophane and stuck in a cardboard box.

The coffin would be carried in, very fast, and then the bearers would stand, like check out operatives, looking impatient as the mourners make their way to their seats (accompanying music? Money’s too tight to mention?). And, of course, there would be no fancy carved catafalque; the coffin would be on a pallet.

Finally, everyone is in, the FD returns to his bearers, who all bow, in respect to the man in the box. And then we hear the little clicks, as they each get their £1 back from their trolley.

This is meant as a bit of fun, rather than a poke at Mr Albrecht. I wish him and his family nothing but good. But it makes you wonder, doesn’t it? How popular would the supplier of the “no frills” funeral be? There are a few breaking into the market now, so let’s see how they do.

Get off my land - update

Thanks to Gloria and Charles for their comments on my earlier post.

I was working in Coastville last week with an FD who is based in a small place between there and Seatown.

"So, lovely Mr FD", I asked, "Why can't I get any work in Seatown?"

His answer was, plain and simply, the competition.

There are some independents (mostly former registrars from what he was saying) and FDs will give them a chance. Fair enough, they did the same for me a couple of years ago.

I was almost relieved with his answer - I was beginning to suffer from the "oh no, what have I done to upset everyone?" paranoia common to many in this game.

So, I need to make sure that I remind the Seatown FDs of my existence, and smile my sweetest smile when I visit, hoping that my card goes on the top of the pile for a while.

My big fear is that the hordes of competition move into Coastville - then I am snookered.

Charles asked whether or not being a celebminister is a viable way to earn a living. Possibly not, but here's the rub. To be a celebminister, you have to be available. Very few FDs ring up and ask "When are you free?" before making their bookings - we are too far down the food chain for that. And if we're not free, somebody else will be.

This level of availability is not always easy, if you're doing other work. I was very lucky that I was allowed a form of flexi-time, but this is not available, or practical, for everyone.

I do also do namings and weddings (in the midst of death, we are in life...) and a few other (very minor) bits and pieces, so I'n not entirely reliant on the dead. But I would be in shtuck if I had no funerals at all.

Still, the fear is one of the things that makes us do our best, go the extra mile and try to make that ceremony exceed expectations. It's a hunger that I don't want to lose.

A good time to die?

A tale of two gents.

When I was doing my training, back in the 18th century (well, that's how it feels now), I went with my mentor to visit a family. A gent had died who was well into his nineties and had lived a good, full life. He had enjoyed good health for most of his many years; his final illness had been sudden and short.

His daughter was (understandably) very upset, as her dad still had so many things that he wanted to do.

After that visit, I came to the conclusion that it's better to die while you're still living and still have plans and enthusiasm, rather than after a lot of suffering.

This week, I met the family of another gent. Again, he was a good age and had lived a contented life. But for the last two years he's been unwell and unhappy. The loss of independence caused by his illness was difficult for him to bear and he was simply waiting for it all to end.

Death is inevitable and in both cases I think we could conclude, given the ages of the gents involved, that these are sad, rather than tragic circumstances. But the question in the title of my post comes from the feelings of the families in the two cases.

The daughter of the first gent, despite her father's great age, still felt angry and cheated. Yes, these are normal and expected grief reactions, particularly in the case of an unexpected death, but there was that feeling that Dad had somehow been cut off in his prime.

The sister of the second gent was much calmer, possibly even relieved. The prevailing sentiments were "it was time" and "he was ready to go".

So when is a good time to die? Well, obviously, at the age of 150, while asleep, after a good meal, some fine wine, and any other....pleasures.

But to be serious, this is another question without an answer; there are no rights or wrongs, no easy or hard solutions. The reactions above may have had as much to do with the relationships as the circumstances, but as much as we all say "I want to go while I'm having fun", those left behind would nearly always like a little more notice, and a bit more of a feeling that the right thing has happened.

Keep well, all.

Get off my land!

If this were an ideal world, Charles, Gloria, Jonathan, Rupert and others would all live in the same town as me. We would meet for coffee every couple of weeks, in a cafe that sold calorie-free cake.

We would all have as much work as we wanted.

And for those of us who are celebrants/ministers/officiants/gobs on sticks, we would know that the following happened – when a funeral director meets a family, they would spend a lot of time, asking the family what they wanted, and letting know all of the options available (including the things that they don’t “have” to have). If the family has said that they want an officiant, the FD would then go away and think long and hard to get the best match from their extensive list of ministers. They would think about the family that they have met and the personality of their ministers and would put together those that will work well together and will produce the best possible funeral; a triumph, a memorable occasion which enables the family to move on with their grief in the best way possible to them.

I don’t live in an ideal world. I live in a place that we shall call Seatown. I am also about fifteen miles from Coastville, and about twenty-five miles from Poshbourne. We have an established celebrant in the latter, but I’m sometimes called upon for holiday cover.

My esteemed mentor (She who must be obeyed) used to live in Coastville, but has moved to pastures new in another part of the country. I miss her guidance and her humour but it is honest to say that I am very grateful for her workload.

And this is because FDs are busy people, who do not go through their list of celebrants like a casting director, and think about who best will match their family. My experience suggests that the thought process is more along the lines of:

What sort of minister?
Non-religious.
Is that the same as humanist?
Close enough.
Who did we use last time?
X.Piry.
She any good?
No complaints.
Okay. What’s her number?


And that’s on a good day.

Now, I am probably doing many FDs a lot of disservice. But I think there’s a lot in the “who did we use last time” argument. Unless there’s a reason to use someone different (such as a specific request, or wanting a man, rather than a woman, etc) then it’s sound. It’s a bit like when you have a complaint with the gas board, and you know that someone called Angela was helpful. You will go back to Angela, because she did what you wanted her to do and kept you informed, and listened to you....

Now, the BHA would be happy to train a lot of celebrants who live in Seatown, Coastville, Poshbourne and anywhere else that good candidates apply. There is some evidence to back up the argument that having more celebrants on the ground does increase ceremony numbers.

Fine – but does it increase it enough? Conducting ceremonies (not just funerals) is my main source of income. Therefore, I have an average number per week/month/year that I would like to conduct to pay the bills and feed my chocolate habit.

If someone new trained in Poshbourne, then I would not get any holiday cover work there.
The other problem that I have is that currently, in Seatown, I cannot seem to get any work. To my knowledge, I have neither messed up or upset anyone, but there is a strong presence from the civil celebrants and a very good independent celebrant who is well known in the town. There are one or two FDs who have me at the top of their “godless” list, but this is not a very godless place, so between the competition and the retired vicars, I would be letting Cadbury go out of business, if I was only reliant on Seatown.

Coastville, however, treats me well. It keeps me busy and I am grateful. So how would I feel if someone from Coastville wanted to train there?

Panicky would be an obvious reaction (please don’t make me go back to office work, anything, but that, guv). After all, although I feel fairly established in Coastville, I work hard to produce good ceremonies, and to make myself easy to work with for the FDs, would someone on the doorstep be a more attractive proposition for them?

The BHA might feel that I have Seatown to work with, but I refer you to my comments above.So, if the BHA trained up someone on the way to Poshbourne and someone in Coastville, I would by right up effluent creek and lacking a method of propulsion.

And this is why local celebrants resist the training of new celebrants. It feels like a constant matter of tension. But what are the options?

If we don’t train a good candidate – what will they do? They may wait (I did), but for how long? Alternatively, unless they are dyed in the wool humanists (a rare breed) then they can simply train with another organisation or simply start out on their own. Thus, they become the competition.

If we do train a good candidate – what will I do? Have a huff moment and give up my BHA accreditation? And then what – be an independent celebrant with a lot of experience (and relationships with FDs), but the new BHA celebrant will still be there and will be my competition. There are pros and cons to being a BHA celebrant, and there are pros and cons to being independent, so neither has an absolute advantage.

So what do we do? Most people want to become celebrants because they have been to an inspiring ceremony. Good celebrants make a ceremony look easy. The recruitment process should be tough and hard to get through (I believe that it is, we are very careful who we train), but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t thousands of people out there who would make good celebrants.

If we recruit them all, we would have a huge network of quality people. And we would have some who would have to leave because they can no longer get enough work to sustain their lifestyles (I know of at least one colleague in the last year who has done this, in an area with a lot of independent competition).

No celebrants are in this for the money, but for those of us who have chosen (and yes, it is our choice, I accept that) to make this an almost full time career, then we need to have regular numbers of ceremonies.

There are some celebrants who don’t want to do a huge volume of funerals. I met a chap a couple of years ago who told me that he didn’t have the “emotional hardware” for more than one a fortnight. That’s fair enough and people like him are great for cover, etc. It’s also one of those professions where you don’t actually know what you’ll be able to cope with until you’re doing it and can see what it’s doing to you.

There is room in the network for celebrants with all sorts of workload requirements. The difficulty is getting the balance right.

I’ve really rambled on enough for now, and so I’d like to throw this open to anyone who’d like to share an opinion.

What do you guys think?

Should children go to funerals?

Well, as a rule, yes, if you ask me (but few do).

I had a situation recently where I was talking to a mourner who obviously felt "no". She told me that she didn't have anyone to leave her kids with, so they were sitting in the car.

I was a bit concerned as it was a warm day, but I think she left the window open, a couple of bonios and a bowl of water.



On another occasion, some children came along. The daughter of the deceased got up to speak, and was struggling. Each breath seemed to constrict her throat further. She managed to say "sorry!" but not a word of her tribute.

Just as I was trying to reassure her to take her time, a small voice (the lady's nephew) called out "Hurry Uuuuppp!!"

It was a great moment, everyone laughed and the tension was broken. Including in this lady, who was then able to read her tribute without a fault.

Not counting the deceased, this little angel was "man of the match", I reckon.