The crematorium publishes the upcoming funerals, not the past ones. That’s clever, because it gives you a second chance. It’s like seeing a warning sign on the motorway—you can still take the exit.
You think, “Right, I should go to that one. I’ll just fit it in between the school run and my afternoon Zoom call.” Suddenly, you’re planning a funeral like you’d plan a dentist visit: with a grim sense of duty and a vague hope it won’t rain.
I once saw a slot for a funeral at 2:15 PM. It felt oddly specific, like a parking reservation. I half-expected to see a note saying, “Please collect your order number and a complimentary tissue pack.”
What is a catafalque? | Heart of England Co-op Funerals
The Anecdote of the "Wrong" Chapel
Last month, I showed up at the Heart of England for a service. I saw a handful of people in suits, nodded solemnly, and sat in the back row for twenty minutes before realizing I was at the wrong funeral. The deceased was a 92-year-old woman named Gladys; I was there for a bloke called Derek.
Talk about awkward. I had to sneak out like a teenager leaving a boring party, but with more guilt. The usher just shrugged, as if to say, “Happens every Tuesday, mate.”
