The Country Celebrant and The Country Carer

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...

Today has been an extraordinary day.  I have never written or delivered a ceremony for an animal before.  I would not normally do so, not because I am anti pet ceremonies.  I am an animal lover and I fully appreciate the joy of owning an animal. Mabel was a border collie cross, she came into the life of her owner as an adult dog and they shared everything for some 15 years. Mabel's owner is a lady in her 60's who has been on her own since her parents died when she was in her middle age.  The lady is alone, she has additional needs; mainly anxiety but also profound loneliness and some autistic tendencies. Mabel was her rock, when things got bad she would press her body against the lady's leg and look up at her with that wonderful smile that collie dogs are so good at giving.  Mabel knew if she was the subject of the conversation; she would thump her tail on the floor and squirm with pleasure, joining in with all that was being discussed. For the last 15 y...

The Country Celebrant and Carer:  Loss Here we go again, preparing to celebrate the family are gathering the presents are bought and wrapped. But under the tree and in my heart there is a hole so small and dark that only I can see it. Sometimes I lose myself for a moment and the hole is diminished but mainly it pulsates with pain and loss. I can smooth the edges with light and warmth I can fill the void with laughter but the cold creeps back and the laughter fades away. Where are you?  Are you safe and sound? Do you look at us from your eyrie? Can you hear our dreams and see our wishes? I would turn back the clock I would rekindle your fire that burnt so bright I would walk a thousand steps to see you again. To hear your words and see your smile to share a hug and be with you again would make my day complete. In the meantime, I will smile and nod and remember you in my heart and look for you in the shared memories that we have.

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 ...