Tag Archives: cremation

Post Code Posts

I’m currently reading Mail Obsession: A Journey Round Britain by Postcode by Mark Mason. It will be reviewed in due course. First I have to finish it, then it has to come to the front of the queue. I have a copy, so I could have photographed it, but I’ve lifted it off Amazon because I’m lazy.

Mail Obsession: A Journey Round Britain by Postcode

 

This gave me an idea.

I’m already ticking piers off the list, and am committed to writing about it, but I need something else to do in the gaps. Something that helps me practice writing but doesn’t involve me in travel, as I don’t currently have the time or the money.

So, instead of travelling round Britain by postcode, I’m going to write posts based on the parcels I’ve addressed. It will be a bit hit or miss, as  it depends on how many orders we get, who packs them and how fast I go.

It’s not very adventurous, but if I want a life of adventure I’ll buy a bike and cycle to work round the Ring Road.

Today we start with GU 22, BS 20 and BL 5.

The town giving its name to the GU code is Guildford, and GU 22 is Woking. I’m sure I’ve been there in the past but a lot of those Southern places look the same to me. Woking is claimed to be the site of the oldest purpose built mosque in the UK (1879), and the oldest purpose built crematorium .

Apparently 13 holders of the Victoria Cross have been cremated here. And a horse. They burned the horse for practice in 1879 then waited for cremation to be declared legal in 1884. It seems a strange business model – building a specialist facility for something that isn’t legal.

BS 20 is next. BS is Bristol, and number 20 is specifically Portishead, North Somerset. I started to take an interest when I saw a reference to Portishead Pier, but it appears just to have been a working steamer pier. That’s a useful thing, but not as interesting as a pier with chips and amusements.

Time to get No 2 son to work now, so must shoot off.

Stop All The Clocks (Part 3)

Sorry, it’s been a while since Part 1 and Part 2, which covered making my own funeral arrangements. I had meant to keep them closer together but, as you know, I’ve not been very industrious lately.

The funeral is going to be non-religious, cheap and hot, with a cardboard coffin and informal dispersal of the remains. Let “economic dignity” be the theme.

That leaves the catering and the music.

The music is a problem, as I’m very limited in my musical taste, and a lot of it has been done before. On top of that is the problem that the music isn’t really for my amusement and going through the curtains to The Crazy World of Arthur Brown may not meet with Julia’s approval. In fact I know it doesn’t as we’ve discussed it before.

Being serious for a moment, my funeral isn’t really about me. Yes, I’ve no doubt that they will talk about me, share a few memories and, if honest, agree that I did have a few imperfections. Really, though, it’s for the people who are left behind, and planning all the details seems a bit presumptuous. After all, I’m not the one who is going to have to sit through it all.

There’s a site with some favourite songs but most of them are either a bit over-used or too sad for funerals or, let’s be honest, rubbish. I’m not going to set myself up as a music critic, but I will be leaving a list of songs not to play at my funeral.

I quite like Banks of Green Willow, though I also like the theme from The Outlaw Josie Wales. Not saying anyone should play them, but there are worse songs to go out to. When the Angels Sing sounds like it should be suitable, but despite my love of the track it doesn’t really fit with my dull suburban life.

One of the things I’ve been meaning to do is write some better funeral poetry as most of it is fairly dreary. We read one of my father-in-law’s poems at his funeral – a short light verse about senior moments and that was good. One of my cousins had one of his own poems at his funeral, which was a bit more serious, but still better than anything you find by Googling funeral poems, apart from Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.

Anything that talks about meeting later or, even worse, being in another room, is definitely out. So is anything claiming I am like wind beneath your wings, or anything else. The word wind, when linked to me, does not, I confess, lead to thoughts on a higher plane. It’s meant to be a dignified occasion and I don’t want any sniggering during the eulogy.

That’s enough for now, we’ll have to cover catering in another installment as I get nervous when a post gets close to 500 words. I’m a blogger, not a novelist.