The Country Celebrant and The Country Carer

It has been a few months since I wrote a piece. I have been busy working on the Doula side of my business and it occurred to me that some of you might be interested to know a little more. Doula comes from the ancient Greek and translates as a handmaiden or servant - birth doulas are trained in supporting a woman through the birthing process.  End of life doulas, sometimes called soul midwives, are trained in supporting someone through the process of dying. Our training is not medical.  We are trained to support a family in the closing days of life, to be an advocate for the person who is dying and to be a shoulder to cry on; a gatekeeper and a friend. My experience of doula-ing is very practical; I will spend time with the dying person to allow the principal carer a break, my role can be to help them to mend fences, clear up loose ends and say goodbye.  I do this by listening to what they want, I encourage the important people to be there and keep the conflict and...

I thought that some of you might be interested in my work as a Doula. I have worked with families for a very long time; I am a Mother to three wonderful and very nearly grown-up people and I have run a pre-school in Hampshire since forever. When my Father died I wanted to honour him by burying him on his farm.  I struggled to talk to him about his wishes right until the end; I did not have the courage to raise such a personal issue. As is so often the case, events overtook us ... he was terminally ill and had made it clear to the doctors that he wanted no further intervention.  He died in his own bed with those whom he loved carrying on as best they could around him. We buried him in a clearing on the farm.  The only people present were his immediate family, a very compassionate funeral director (who happened to be my son's rugby coach) and the dogs. I knew then that I needed to learn to do this job properly and by that I don't mean the formality of being a ce...

Winter is, hopefully, over and the wedding season is fast approaching. At the moment, those of us involved in weddings are invited to attend showcase events - glitzy affairs where outfitters, cake makers, planners and venues vie for business. The brides to be are schmoozed with bags of goodies, samples of this and that to whet their appetite and empty their pockets. Celebrants too are invited to attend these fairs and I wonder why?  You seldom meet a vicar or a registrar at a wedding fair. The vicar is safe in the knowledge that should a couple wish to be married in a specific church then he will get the gig. The registrar hides behind the legalities of a civil wedding - rolling out humdrum ceremonies in ghastly offices or worse still, fleecing couples for the same prosaic ceremony in a fancy location for an extortionate fee. Hand-fasting Ceremony The Celebrant has to work very hard at getting to know the couple they are working for, researching music and poetry tha...

The Country Wedding ~ Cindy Groves If you could have your wedding day as perfect as you can,  would you have roses and peonies or flowers from the hedgerows? I would be married to my love in a woodland glade,  with the dog to bear the rings and a knees up in the garden. If you could plan you day with no expenses spared would you have champagne and canapes or dandelion wine? I would be married to my love on a beach by the sea with sand between my toes and shells to mark the way. If you could be married in ceremony, with all the bells and whistles would you have high society in silk or your friends in cotton dresses? I would be married to my love every day for ever, I would cleave to him and laugh with him and make music together.

The Country Celebrant  So here we are, the middle of January already; the United Kingdom has been buffeted by a series of storms that have swelled the rivers until they burst, leaving people with a deluge of mud and silt and detritus to clear away. We have lost icons of the stage and film and on a personal level we have, undoubtedly, lost people who mean the world to us; ordinary people who made no momentous contribution to the world but who shaped us by the very fact that we knew them. I was told the story of a cowman who taught a child to care for calves, to rear those orphaned, by hand - dipping her hand into a bucket of warm milk and allowing the calf to suck her fingers until it got the hang of how to drink.     I remember doing that as a child, I remember the rasp of the tongue on my fingers and the anticipation of a bite.  A calf does not bite, he does not have the teeth to do so. I am preparing for a new journey in my life; I have one son living on the ...