Drag myself from my bed around 20 past 6 Get my kids up make breakfast 1 egg 2 toast 3 weetabix And as I sit down I look up And your standing in the doorway sun at your back in my old brown dressing gown Well no one can

     

It was interesting to follow the unfolding debate amongst funeral directors and celebrants in response the blog post ‘C of E raises funeral fee to £160’ here. If you are one or the other, have you paused to wonder what on Earth any consumer would have made of it?  Yes,

  From time to time the cry goes up, sometimes from the public, sometimes from funeral directors themselves, that it’s time to regulate the funeral industry. Here at the GFG we’re against it. We defend the principle that the dead belong to their own, not to a bunch of professionalised

There will be exactly two schools of thought about this poem:   The Funeral Director by Jerry J. Brown Listens, hears and understands… Communicates softly, a tear, a touch, a smile… Senses the shock and knows the numbness of disbelief and denial… Understands the intimacy of death, and quietly responds

Yuli Somme of Bellacouche in her workshop making one of her felt leaf shrouds. Find her here.   On the North Island of New Zealand, Whangarei District Council has been researching natural burial for the last three years. Three years? Yes, they want to do it as it should be done.