Comment made by a friend’s wife while watching part of the three-and-three-quarter hour funeral of Whitney Houston last Saturday: “If this was my funeral I’d be losing the will to live by now” !

Recently made my first visit to one of the new generation of woodland burial sites - apparently growing in popularity as they offer a less regimented and more “natural” setting than the usual cemeteries and crematoria.

Mixed feelings - certainly a tranquil setting for the chapel itself, although the roar of nearby motorway was inescapable on the walk to the grave and during the words of committal. The chapel or “Woodland Hall” was all glass and wooden panels - ethically and sustainably sourced, I am sure. There was a studied avoidance of any religious symbols. Even the lectern had tree branches growing out from its base. But no heating in mid-February? Bracing indeed! A blanket of snow certainly added a certain “magical” feel, but the long path to the burial site had been neither cleared nor even gritted. Although a golf-style buggy was available for those who really couldn’t walk unaided, the trek was precarious to say the least. When I enquired how slippery the route would be the manager unapologetically responded “Very!” When she added that “we had two people slip over on Friday” she sounded almost gleeful!

But in all the experience was positive and refreshingly unhurried. Feedback was warm-hearted and appreciative. And no broken bones.

At the service for an 88-year-old lady today her son spoke of how she had recently shown him her membership card for Weight-Watchers. She had been a member for an impressive 19 years. And in all that time she had lost….one pound! Given the monthly subscription rates and the cost per meeting, that sounds like a rather expensive way to shed 14 ounces!

One of the staff in the cafe at South Essex Crem told me how yesterday she went along to what was supposed to be her first “Weight-Watchers” meeting. It was being held in a church hall in Poplar. 

About eight women arrived expectantly (no, I didn’t say “they looked like they were expecting”!!). Being new to the club, my friend wasn’t sure what would happen. As she walked through the door she was very pleasantly surprised to see a long table laid out with a mouth-watering buffet. “I hadn’t realised that losing weight could be as pleasurable as this!”  she thought. Not only that but a DJ was warming up and there were glasses of Bucks Fizz ready to be offered round. 

After a few minutes, however, others began to arrive. Unlike the eight girls in their Lycra and leg-warmers, these were rather more smartly dressed, with a predominance of black.

After a few moments’ confusion, she noticed a sign pinned up near to the door: “Weight-Watchers’  cancelled due to funeral reception”!

This reminded me of another sign, once displayed prominently outside a church: “Weight-Watchers’ Meeting Tonight: please enter through the large double-doors at the side”!

One more phrase that occurs far too often in tributes:

“He was very family-orientated.”

Quite apart from being a clumsy expression that is tricky to say (how many times has it come out as “orient-tat-tated”?!), it’s hard to see how it adds anything worthwhile to the description of Mum or Dad. Does it mean that they had no friends outside their family, or that they exercised an unhealthy control over its members, or indeed that they were blind to the failings or weaknesses of their children - even the one who was serving time at Her Majesty’s pleasure?

Far better to illustrate the person’s devotion to his/her family by the use of examples - the way they made Christmas magical, their generosity with time and energy, the great days out at the seaside and the traditions they established that will be continued by future generations.

So often I find that, once we begin talking about what Mum or Dad was really like, we no longer need vague and cliched forms of words like “family orientated.”

A central feature of most funerals is a tribute or “eulogy” (literally meaning “good words”) to the person who has died. Those of us who are privileged to conduct funerals will work hard with family members to prepare a fitting and appropriate summary of his or her life and character.

Given the infinite variety of human lives and character, I am rarely stuck for something to say. Just occasionally, however, I have to encourage families to avoid some stock phrases that actually mean very little. For example:

“He never did anyone any harm” - what a bland and frankly disappointing assessment of someone’s life - it could imply that he spent his whole life doing.. absolutely nothing!

“She would do anything for anyone” - Really?  I would be extremely anxious and upset if someone said that about my mother or my wife or my sister and would hope that she would be far more careful and discriminating - think about it!!

“We never had a cross word in all our years of marriage” - many marriages are truly to be celebrated, but NEVER A CROSS WORD? Could it be that the passing of the years has dimmed the memory? Or maybe their definition of an argument was nothing less than fully-blown, armed conflict?

“He never moaned or complained”  - many people are incredibly brave and determined in the face of considerable pain and suffering, but never moaning or complaining? Is this really true? Were they truly human? Surely, in the face of severe illness and pain, there are very few of us who would not need to express some frustration or complaint? 

“My mother never committed any sins” - admittedly only once has this actually been said to me! But, whilst there is usually so much to be said that is positive, I think it is usually wrong to pretend that we are burying or cremating Mr or Mrs Perfect! 

One of my greatest delights as I work to support families and individuals facing bereavement is that I really have no idea who or what I shall find until I am invited into their homes.

Over the years I have sat in modest front rooms and lavish mansions, made notes standing up in the midst of a building site and been offered brandy or Pimms whilst enjoying the views from a well-appointed conservatory. When I make the initial contact I am prepared within reason to meet wherever folks feel most comfortable. This is most often in their home or that of their mother or father or sibling. It will sometimes be a local Costa or their favourite pub.

Pets can be a delight or a challenge. Although not a pet-owner I love dogs and meet quite a variety. Only once have I ever been bitten and that was by a spaniel that was evidently missing its owner.

There was one nearly-disastrous ocasion when I visited a house where all the curtains were drawn and the owners shared the property with no fewer than 27 cats! The smell and the heat were unbearable. I really didn’t think I could conduct the interview in such an environment. My salvation came when the lady asked me if I was allergic to cats. I replied truthfully that I am. Fortunately it was a sunny day and we we were able to talk in the garden.

It’s an amazing privilege to be invited into people’s homes - and I am so often humbled by the levels of courtesy and hospitality extended to me at times of deep distress and vulnerability. The constant variety means there is never a dull day. And with this, the opportunity hopefully to make a difference to their lives as we prepare to honour and maybe celebrate the lives of their loved ones.

Much joy and excitement in the Bryant household today with the announcement of the engagement of our eldest daughter, Laura, to Jason Yallop. Looks like we could be planning for a Spring wedding!

So good to see return of ‘Rev.’ with the second series now airing on BBC2. The Rev Adam Smallbone (Tom Hollander) continues to confront multiple challenges in his East London parish. I find his character daringly honest and direct - the influence of an advisory group of serving clergy is evident in the storylines and characters - from the over-amorous Adohah to the worldly-wise and slightly sinister Archdeacon; from the struggles of a frustrated but devoted vicar’s wife to the petty jealousies of an arrogant and undermining junior colleague.

‘Rev.’ has become compulsive viewing for many clergy, although I suspect those who come from the more fundamentalist wing of the church may not be appreciating the portrayal of a drinking, smoking and swearing priest who isn’t forever talking in holy cliches and trying to show that he is somehow set apart from ordinary folk. Smallbone is an altogether more approachable cleric.

Hollander himself has said he is now more open to the possibility that God exists and is going to be attending church himself. One of the challenges for all of us in Christian ministry - including those of us who spend much of our week with the bereaved - is to be similarly approachable and honest, perhaps enabling others to glimpse something of the living Lord Jesus who came to this world and ultimately gave his life for ordinary, sinning mortals.

Preparing for the funeral of a loved one is always a daunting and painful experience. But I reckon the typical TV service as included in Eastenders or Corry or indeed on any crime drama or period piece can make the prospect seem even worse.

For example, why is it that funerals set in crematoria almost invariably feature the coffin visibly disappearing from sight - maybe through doors on noisy rollers? This just doesn’t happen nowadays, at least not in my neck of the woods. The closing of the curtains around the casket is far more gentle and discreet. 

And then of course, the Soap wouldn’t be worth its ratings unless something fairly catastrophic goes wrong - such as a disgruntled ex-partner, sibling, son or daughter getting up unannounced and denouncing what is being done and said. This has never yet happened in any of the funerals I have conducted - though, granted, it is not unheard of. But usually people are well-behaved. What happens at the “wake” afterwards may be a different matter of course, but in the service itself even the most aggrieved individual usually keeps their peace.

In the period dramas, the vicars always seem to be irredeemably wet/spooky/sinister. They read from the prayer book in the most creepy tones possible. Afterwards someone usually congratulates them for what has been, frankly, an abysmal performance! Most (not all!) vicars, ministers and celebrants do rather better than that. It is also most unusual for anyone to fall into the grave - although there is a story, apparently true, about the time an elderly Catholic priest in Upminster fell into the grave after the coffin! Whether drink played a role, I cannot determine!

Sometimes families do act in strange ways. Recently we found it difficult to marshall the mourners from their cars to the graveside as they had broken into several group conversations and were enjoying their cigarettes rather too much to be disturbed. Events sometimes  take a surreal turn. For example, I was asked to bless a gravestone, and on the day in question, the whole family gathered, but conspicuously missing was… the gravestone: “They said it won’t be delivered for another couple of weeks”. Needless to say, I had to swiftly adapt what I was going to say!

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