I did my ninth funeral yesterday, number ten tomorrow. I like to arrive at least an hour early, to be on the safe side, so I took a camera with me to Mansfield Crematorium to keep me occupied while I waited. That's me reflected in the entrance doors to one of the "chapels". It's an odd coincidence that I'm doing many of my services not far from where dad was brought up in Pleasley. In fact a couple of weeks ago I did a service for a retired miner who may have been working at Pleasley Colliery in 1940/41, when my dad worked there briefly. As a result of taking miner's funerals I've learnt more about them and the industry and its record of industrial accidents and diseases.
Wandering around the Crematorium grounds, as I often do, I've frequently seen rabbits nibbling at the discarded wreaths and bouquets and yesterday I got a photo of one. I guess there are worse ways to use so-called "floral tributes" than as food for bunnies.
I'm good at this work, I believe, or at least a fairly accurate recorder and interpreter of what people tell me. It seems to me that one of the most important services we can do for the dead and their families is to be accurate about what those left behind say and feel. Although this isn't necessarily the same as the truth, whatever that is.
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