Maintaining radio silence - anniversary marked.

Oh dear - it's just occurred to me that after my terribly "down on my bad self" entry last time, I've kept silent since. Apologies - I haven't slipped into an abyss - I've just been a busy girl.

Not busy with funerals, alas. To quote an undertaker who was speaking to a colleague of mine; "It's dead out there". I'm covering a few holidays at the moment, so that's all okay, but frankly, if I wasn't, I wouldn't have worked for a month (or, at least, not at this job).

I know that there's a new independent in my local area, and that one of the local FDs is using him, but basically I just have to keep smiling, go and visit my directors when I can, be available when they call, and do a good job when I get a ceremony.

This week was the anniversary of my first ceremony. I was told to expect to do between 1 and 2 per month in my first year. I've done an average of 6 per month - great, but I'd like to do more. I'm looking for other ways of earning money apart from my detested day job, so I'm cracking on with other projects (a bit of training here and there, a few odd bits of writing).

It's not all gloom, however, I had a lovely ceremony last week. The son of the deceased is a professional musician and he not only spoke during the funeral, he also played one of his own compositions. It was a thing of beauty and wonder - it felt a privilege to be there.

Tales of the unexpected

I have a good sense of humour. Not always appropriate in the funeral trade I grant you, but it's a good mechanism for surviving the bad stuff.

So imagine my wry chuckles when I arrived at a crematorium last week. I got there at 2 for a 2:30 service, as I always do (better an hour early than a minute late). I went into the back office, to check with the chapel attendant that all was okay with the music etc. (I love Wesley Music).

One of the bearers was already there. We said hello, I shook his hand and he said "your bugler will be here at 2:15".

I'm sorry - my what?

Yes, we were having The Last Post. Nobody had felt the need to tell me.

In a way, it wasn't a surprise - the man had a military past (his life, like so many others, had been changed by his National Service experience), but nobody had said a word.

I'd had two or three conversations with the funeral arranger. I'd spent the best part of two hours with the chief mourner, drinking tea and finding out about the dear departed, but still no mention of the blinkin' bugler!

Now, I appear to be making a mountain out of a molehill and I genuinely did find it all amusing, but it could have been a problem. This particular crematorium works on a 30-minute cycle, which means you have 20 minutes for your ceremony. And they are strict on this. I've heard it said that if you take more than 22 minutes, they kidnap your children and sell them to the slave trade. I don't have kids, but I'm worried for the cat.

For this particular ceremony, however, a double time slot had been booked, and so we had a bit of leeway, but it could have been so very different.

Another one to chalk up to experience.

I love this job. It makes me laugh.

I've got a gig!

One of the FDs I met on Friday has got me a ceremony
I've spoken to the family and it looks like an interesting one (some "challenging" family dynamics, I think).

Rock n Roll!