Beautiful Words at Midford Natural Burial Ground

In the previous post, I mentioned a wonderful ceremony that I conducted at Midford natural burial ground, which is located just outside Bath. As a funeral celebrant, I often have conversations with people who ask about alternatives to a church yard burial. There are an increasing number of natural burial site choices; some in woodland, others will remain pasture.
All offer incredible peace and a oneness with nature. Perfect both for the ceremony and as a final resting place. 

Anyway, I'm straying off the point. Often I am inspired by the words chosen by the family - but it goes with the territory, I guess, that most readings and quotes are about death. But at this ceremony, the introduction featured a quote from Bill Bryson's book, "Notes from a Small Island". The person we said goodbye to loved travelling around and discovering different towns and places and so the words fitted perfectly.

But on a personal level, the words also resonated with me. I was reminded how great - if slightly bonkers - England is. It reminds me just how perfectly chosen each word of Mr Bryson's prose is and above all, reminded me how lucky I am...

“Suddenly, in the space of a moment, I realized what it was that I loved about Britain - which is to say, all of it.

Every last bit of it, good and bad - Marmite, village fetes, country lanes, people saying 'mustn't grumble' and 'I'm terribly sorry but', people apologising to me when I conk them with a nameless elbow, milk in bottles, beans on toast, haymaking in June, stinging nettles, seaside piers, Ordnance Survey maps, crumpets, hot-water bottles as a necessity, drizzly Sundays - every bit of it.

What a wondrous place this was - crazy as f*%k, of course, but adorable to the tiniest degree.

What other country, after all, could possibly have come up with place names like Tooting Bec and Farleigh Wallop, or a game like cricket that goes on for three days and never seems to start?

Who else would think it not the least odd to make their judges wear little mops on their heads, compel the Speaker of the House of Commons to sit on something called the Woolsack, or take pride in a military hero whose dying wish was to be kissed by a fellow named Hardy? ('Please Hardy, full on the lips, with just a bit of tongue.')

What other nation in the world could possibly have given us William Shakespeare, pork pies, Christopher Wren, Windsor Great Park, the Open University, Gardners' Question Time and the chocolate digestive biscuit? None, of course.

How easily we lose sight of all this. What an enigma Britain will seem to historians when they look back on the second half of the twentieth century.

Here is a country that fought and won a noble war, dismantled a mighty empire in a generally benign and enlightened way, created a far-seeing welfare state - in short, did nearly everything right - and then spent the rest of the century looking on itself as a chronic failure.

The fact is that this is still the best place in the world for most things - to post a letter, go for a walk, watch television, buy a book, venture out for a drink, go to a museum, use the bank, get lost, seek help, or stand on a hillside and take in a view.

All of this came to me in the space of a lingering moment. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I like it here. I like it more than I can tell you.” 

Just as with Alan Bennett, I can only be deeply envious of the precision of the prose. A wonderful book and a wonderful piece to remind us how great life is.

Today I have been mostly eating 'Love Hearts' - not great for my diet, but life is to be enjoyed!