The importance of a good end

Ever heard of the peak-end rule? In the words of Wikipedia:

According to the peak–end rule, we judge our experiences almost entirely on how they were at their peak and how they ended, regardless of valency [duration] (whether pleasant or unpleasant). Other information is not lost, but it is not used. This includes net pleasantness or unpleasantness and how long the experience lasted. 

In one experiment, a subjects were exposed to loud, painful noises. In a second group, subjects were exposed to the same loud, painful noises as the first group, after which were appended somewhat less painful noises. This second group rated the experience of listening to the noises as much less unpleasant than the first group, despite having been subjected to more discomfort than the first group, as they experienced the same initial duration, and then an extended duration of reduced unpleasantness.

It works the same with pleasurable experiences, too. The Artful Blogger supplies a good example: 

This fact of perception seems to be already in the bones of the most well-regarded artists. For example, I once heard a jazz pianist tell a group of students how to craft a solo improvisation. The cheat-sheet? Build to a strong middle, and make a solid ending…the audience won’t remember anything else. I’ve also seen many orchestral conductors add an especially dramatic flourish to their final cut-off, leading the crowd to go wild, regardless of what came before.

It’s one of those things that seems obvious once you’ve got your head around it. But for those who plan funerals and write funeral ceremonies, it’s clearly important to be understand how your the experience of your work will be evaluated in retrospect. 

 

All will be well

I am filming with Bernard Underdown, Gravedigger of the Year, at Deerton Natural Burial Ground. We are standing beside one of Bernard’s freshly-dug graves talking with ever-so over-egged animation about graveyard myths and superstitions. We exhaust the topic, look over to the camera, and the cameraman says, “Lovely. Perfect.  Again, please.” In answer to our mildly miffed expressions he explains, “Car. That car. Sorry.” The noise of a passing car has intruded on the microphone. Bernard and I dig deep into our reserves of flagging spontaneity and reprise. 

On the other side of the burial ground I see five people arrive, then stand and survey the ground and chat contemplatively. It is starting to rain and they put their umbrellas up. 

One of the group detaches herself and comes over to us. It is Wendy Godden-Wood, the owner. Bernard and I come to the end of our re-take. We’re on a continuous loop now, we ready ourselves to start again. The cameraman says “Great. That’ll do.”

Wendy explains that the four people have come to buy plots. They are mooching, looking for the spot they like best, the spot where they’d like to spend eternity. 

People say we’re a death-denying nation. Don’t know about that. 

Crems on wheels

The handsome chariot pictured above is a mobile crematorium. It is reckoned to have been developed for FEMA in case of disaster.

Would it not serve just as well for scattered rural populations in Wales and Scotland? 

Full mobile crem patent here

Rub-a-dub-dub

From a Co-operative Funeralcare press release:

Staff at The Co-operative Funeralcare in Copson Street are holding an open day between 10am to 2pm for residents to find out more about the work of a funeral director.

The horse-drawn hearse and  Only Fools and Horses’ fan hearse will be on display to illustrate how funerals can be tailored to individual needs and can help reflect the life of the deceased. A jazz band and piper will also be present, as other examples of how funerals can be personalised.

Visitors will be offered a guided tour of the funeral home, which features an arranging room and a remembrance room, be able to ask questions and view the distinctive hearses.

This is not the first open day Funeralcare has staged recently. They held one at Crouch End in September with the same format. The words of the press release are mostly interchangeable, showing how such a communication can be personalised. “Visitors will be offered a guided tour of the funeral home, which features an arranging room and a remembrance room.”

 They held one at Stockton, too: “It was a huge success,” said Manager David Knowles. “Around 60 people came throughout the day and were given a guided tour of the funeral home, which features an arranging room and three remembrance rooms.”

 The Good Funeral Guide applauds this spirit of openness. We think it will go a long way towards demonstrating to funeral shoppers that their dead will be beautifully looked after when in the tender care of Co-operative Funeralcare. 

How they do it in Zambia

In a delightful article in the Sunday Times of Zambia titled Food at Funerals in Zambia, which doesn’t actually get around to talking about Zambian funeral food at all, the writer describes current funeral customs in that country. 

In the countryside, the old customs are alive and well: When death occurs, news spreads very fast. It just takes one or two full-blooded women to wail lungs out. Thereafter, people from all walks of life will gather to commiserate with the bereaved, even when the dead person might have been their ‘worst’ enemy – death is death! It is to be feared! It is an equaliser, people unite, and no arguments arise about its inevitability – some call it ‘kukomboka’/knocking off!

In towns and cities, funeral traditions display western influences, though it’s difficult to see what they are. The following is extracted:

Inevitably the web of all known relatives will also be used to communicate the sad news, and before you know it they will converge at the funeral house from all corners of the country.  

The grief-stricken closest relatives – parents and others – sit on the floor, mourning, and sobbing in the living room. As relatives arrive they start mourning with a rising crescendo; some may even roll on the ground in their lamentation. 

Duties, especially in the area of feeding of the mourners, will be given out. Customarily, the kitchen brigade is made up of traditional cousins of the deceased.

As the food is being prepared the brigade members will pass jokes and make a mockery of the deceased family who by an ‘unwritten law’ cannot ‘hit back’ then; they will bide their time until perhaps when a funeral occurs in the ‘attackers’ family. This is not ill-intentioned but the practice has its roots in history when the Ngonis and the Bembas fought pitched battles, with no clear victory for either side. Consequently, the truce that followed sealed an enduring peace to this day.

Now enter the professional mourners! In fact there are three main types of professional mourners: the first type is made up of people with their ears to the ground and are usually the first to learn about any funeral that takes place anywhere. They usually arrive first and kick up a raucous of loud mourning enough to wake up the dead. They then find their way to the place nearest where the food is being cooked. This is the real reason they attend funeral after funeral.

The second type of professional mourners is the story-tellers. They will behave like the first group, except that as they tear at their hair and amid sobs and copious outflows of grief they will tell cooked up stories about the deceased. For example they would say that the deceased was a good person, their late uncle, who had managed to educate most of his nine children, now who was going to look after the remaining three younger ones? Yet in fact there were no children, the marriage having taken place only two weeks ago! When all is said and done, the story-teller makes a beeline for the nearest food spot, consuming big potions so as to catch up with those that started eating earlier than they did.

Then topping the bill are some relatives who will mourn in a special way, punctuating the sobbing with pointed comments about the property: “What shall I do with the Toyota Cressida you have left behind? I don’t know how to drive.”

Another relative might answer: “Mutale will be driving you, my sister.” Or, “The deep freezer… It’s so big. How will I take to my village? No Zesco there!” The answer might be: “Just sell it and we can share the money.”

Such a parody of mourning can go on and on until all the property is shared in this manner or until after the burial when during the ending rituals (Isambwe lya mfwa: kutsiliza maliro) a brave/wise uncle will put a stop to the squabbling. Where there is no wise person all the property will be taken away and later the case will end up in court.

Full story here

Taking a shirt from the Reaper

The funeral yesterday of south London underworld luminary Charlie Richardson. Among the mourners was ‘Mad’ Frankie Fraser. 

The Richardson gang, led by Charlie and his brother Eddie, was noted, in its heyday in the sixties, for its compliance process, which included, according to the Mail,  “torturing enemies at their scrap metal yard by attaching electrodes to their nipples and genitals and delivering electric shocks, having already placed them in baths of water to make the electricity more potent. The gang would frequently carry out mock trials for victims, before administering punishments including whippings, cigarette burning and teeth being pulled out by gang member ‘Mad’ Frankie Fraser. They were then made to clean up their own blood. The brutal method of trial by kangaroo court and subsequent torture was said to be known as ‘taking a shirt from Charlie’, as Richardson would often give victims a clean shirt in which to return home afterwards.” No volt-farce, that. 

The floral arrangement bearing the legend 240 DC refers to the black, handle-driven World War Two army generator which delivered the torturtricity. 

Full story in the Mail here.

Not unchilling interview with Mr Fraser here

No cigar on this occasion for naming the man leading the Roller. 

Parp

This blog tends as a rule towards seemly and proper self-deprecation, but we hope you’ll forgive us if we sound a short, breathy toot on our own trumpet.

There’s a great deal of interest in death these days. Funerals, to be precise. We’ve lost count of the calls we’ve had from TV production companies in particular. Today we even had a call from a well-known field sports magazine. 

We’ve also lost track of what we’ve said to who (okay, whom, Jonathan) and what might have become of it. So it’s been very gratifying to receive thanks from people who have received publicity for what they do following a tip-off from the GFG-Batesville Shard. 

We are aware that our website is becoming fertile research ground, and  our blog is watched by story-hungry newspapers. In the month of September, our website scored 68,850 hits. 

If you are of an opinionated or writerly disposition, our blog is open house to all shades of opinion. Send it in!

If you are a funeral director besieged by calls, we apologise. At least it’s good news stories they’re all after, now.

Latest news on the Good Funeral Awards documentary being made for Sky is that the big cheeses have seen the almost-complete film and like it very, very much. Transmission is scheduled for spring. 

The eleventh commandment is ‘don’t get caught’

Posted by Richard Rawlinson

What a time it’s been for the funeral industry on the tellybox. Apologies made and inquiries launched by Co-operative Funeralcare after Channel 4’s Dispatches: Undercover Undertakers. Ditto by Funeral Services Partnership-owned Gillman Funeral Service after ITV’s Exposure: The British Way of Death.

These spy camera investigations of sneaky sales practices and disrespect for corpses were partly balanced by a more positive representation of the industry in BBC2’s Dead Good Job, which included an insight into the fast-paced work of a Muslim undertakers.

And we still have to look forward to a documentary for Sky, which will feature the recent Good Funeral Guide Awards at the Joy of Death festival, not to mention our very own Charles Cowling who has collaborated tirelessly with the show’s makers, Sharp Jack Media.

I’ve recently posted a couple of fluffy blogs about funereal fashion and the ubiquity of skulls on everything from cushion covers to cufflinks. This trend, coupled with all the media attention, leads to the question, is there something deathly in the air at the moment?

It’s probable that, while the industry seems to insiders to be in the media spotlight, the public-at-large will be less pre-occupied by the exposés. They no doubt have enough concerns about their own work, bank balances and home lives. Besides, even prime-time documentaries receive only moderate viewing figures in this age of multi-channels and internet distractions. And this week’s Exposure arguably trumps last week’s as an attention-grabber: the reputation of the late oddball national treasure Jimmy Savile is destroyed by revelations he sexually abused under-age girls. His not-so-old grave in Scarborough is now under police guard.

The trouble with our oft-brutal modern age is many people become almost numb to disgraceful behaviour all around, from the top to the bottom of society. Today’s equivalent of Yes, Prime Minister is The Thick Of It, a compulsively ghastly comedy exposing the corruption of contemporary government ‘public service’ which makes charming the gentle spoofing of the ineptitude of yesteryear.

However, the rash of forever-Google-able media attention will no doubt mean funeral service anecdotes will be spreading by word-of-mouth during ‘did-you-see…?’ pub chats, and words such as ‘hub’, ‘leakage’ and ‘hygiene treatments’ will be a bit more familiar.

When another institution close to my heart got a justified slamming for totally mishandling cases of sexual deviance in its midst, I believe the shaming had a positive, humbling effect. I’m optimistic that complacent managers at undertakers—big and small—will have also learned lessons from the recent exposés, and standards will now improve. The eleventh commandment of ‘don’t get caught’ is a terribly jaded and cynical approach to life.

But I’ll close with an observation that the National Association of Funeral Directors’ Code of Practice for members focuses on the rights of funeral consumers, or the living rather than the dead. It says nothing about how to store the dead, or how to conduct oneself while preparing a body. It says nothing about racist or sexist gallows humour directed towards corpses, as caught on the documentaries’ cameras.

The code reveals, however, that NAFD is not naive of human flaws, the desire of businesspeople to maximise profits, sometimes by deceiving clients made vulnerable by bereavement or lack of savvy. It says, for example, funeral directors should “have readily-available price lists covering the basic funeral and all other types of coffins, caskets and services provided”.

It even demands FDs
 “refrain from soliciting funeral orders or offering or giving any reward for recommendation to persons or organisations such as health service establishments, nursing homes or coroners’ offices, etc.”

It wouldn’t have included these codes, had it not been aware of such dodgy practices. Both codes are clearly breached by members. I don’t blame NAFD for not including explicit clauses about backroom practices though. The media corporation for which I work gives new employees a fat staff manual which goes into great detail about workplace ethics, including everything from racist, sexist and homophobic bullying to hanky panky on premises. I’m glad to say I’m surrounded by educated colleagues who behave decently without even having to study the small print guidelines.

Undertakers, whether big enough to have HR departments or not, should be able to regulate their staff without making a public declaration about it. Modern life doesn’t have to be rubbish.

Tichbourne’s Elegy

Posted by Evelyn
 
I heard this on Radio Four over the weekend and liked its mournful simplicity.
 
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain;
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done. 
My tale was heard and yet it was not told,
My fruit is fallen, and yet my leaves are green,
My youth is spent and yet I am not old,
I saw the world and yet I was not seen;
My thread is cut and yet it is not spun,
And now I live, and now my life is done. 
I sought my death and found it in my womb,
I looked for life and saw it was a shade,
I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb,
And now I die, and now I was but made;
My glass is full, and now my glass is run,
And now I live, and now my life is done. 
 
Chideock Tichbourne 1563-1586

Kicking the Bucket right around the corner

There’s already quite a buzz about the Kicking the Bucket Festival, which threads its way through the second half of this month. Barbara Chalmers tells us she’s coming all the way from Glasgow, so come on, you ought to be able to make it from wherever you are. There’s masses of good stuff on.

The KtB website is full of good info. If you’ve got a paper programme, please note that there are two errors:

Home Death  at the Pegasus theatre. The price is £6/5 not £20 as shown.

Marigolds & Ashes at the Friends Meeting house, booking through Oxford Playhouse should be priced at £12/£10 because this includes food too. “We can offer  a show ticket without food at £6/5 prices shown on the paper programme, but it is the full price if you have the meal.”

 Check out the full programme. It’s an immensely rich diet we are offered. Goodness only knows how anyone organises something of this scale. Hats off to Liz Rothschild!

The Good Funeral Guide
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