The Centre for Natural Burial

By Sheena Hastings, Yorkshire post

‘I want to look my best, with my hair done nicely, with a fringe, and some lipstick.’
PAM Jackson is hale and hearty. Like many 80-year-olds, she takes a few pills, but she has no particular reason to suppose she will slip this mortal coil in the very near future. All the same, she’s been thinking about death lately – in a constructive, cheerful kind of way.
Long divorced, and with one son who lives in Australia, Pam decided she’d take things in hand regarding her send-off, relieving her next-of-kin of the task of dealing with a host of practical arrangements whilst also in the grip of grief and jet lag.

“I saw something on the TV about green burials,” says Pam. “I really rather liked the idea of it all and a friend did some research for me on the internet about woodland burial sites.

“There was one closer to where I live, but I preferred the look of Tarn Moor Memorial Woodland near Skipton. I was born in the countryside, and wanted to be in the country again, surrounded by birds, bees and nature.”

The woodland is on an 80-acre site belonging to the people of Skipton. Remains are buried there in unmarked graves, and those who reserve a plot can specify which area they want. It’s a beauty spot, a place to visit and picnic, and it’s now one of 300 natural burial grounds in the country.

Pam, a retired PR executive living in North Yorkshire, says: “I knew I wanted burial rather than cremation, as I have always been frightened of fire, and really don’t mind if worms get to me. The people at Tarn Moor say I can have any kind of burial so long as it’s dignified. I’ve become more and more questioning about religion, so I’m not having a service, but will have a simple graveside blessing.”

She’s still mulling over some decisions, including exactly which biodegradable wicker or willow basket she will be laid to rest in. She has already made very specific decisions about her appearance, though.

“I want to look my best, with my hair done nicely, including a fringe, and some lipstick. And I’ve picked out a particular pink nightdress that will do the job nicely. I know I won’t feel anything, but it matters to me. I like to think I shall be about, watching.”

Pam is extremely upbeat and matter-of-fact about all of this. “I certainly don’t want people to be sad when I go. I’ve told the friend who will be my executor that I expect the party afterwards to be a jolly do in the pub, and would be very happy to think that people sang, danced and enjoyed it.

Pam has reserved her spot on the edge of the woodland, with a view of hills. “When I saw it, I knew it was right, it was as though the hills were alive with the sound of music. Cemeteries are too regimented, and they’re all filling up anyway. This way, I’ll become part of nature, with flowers around me and sheep grazing. I can think of nothing lovelier.”

Although Pam has been able to discuss her plans with close friends – and has invited a few to choose one of her beautiful hand-painted watercolours of flowers as a keepsake – some family members have been reluctant to discuss her wishes.

“That was frustrating, because I want to feel that everyone has an idea of the details, and that these are things I really want to happen. I suppose for some people death is an uncomfortable area of conversation. But my view is that it’s good to face up to it and get organised. It’s going to happen to us all, even if we don’t like to talk about it.”

While for many people, the furthest they get with a funeral plan is occasionally declaring they must have their favourite pop song, piece of classical music or hymn played as they’re carried out feet first, Pam is one of thousands of people who are grasping that prickly nettle of the inevitable, and taking care of the end of their life while they have the luxury of time to think about it.

For some, relief and a sense of serenity comes from paying for their funeral now, in a plan which guarantees that their investment will cover the arrangements they have requested, no matter how long the interval between the purchase and their death.

Many people who marry in church or are given a faith-based funeral may never worship regularly but feel they still want this element of recognisable tradition when they go.

But, as with weddings and the many ways you can now plight your troth that don’t involve church and priest, consumer choice has come increasingly into play at the end of life.

The old one-in, one-out conveyor-belt-style ceremony at the crematorium, or impersonal funeral eulogy by a minister who clearly never met the deceased both may be on the wane, as more and more people want to stamp their personality on their death by choosing everything from how they will be looked after during their last days to receiving their send-off in a cardboard coffin painted in the colours of Barnsley FC, or having their ashes shot from a rocket during a firework display.

For Linda Macias, whose fast-growing terminal cancer was diagnosed only a few months ago, planning the minutiae of her last days and funeral are a vital way of exerting some influence over a situation that is otherwise beyond her control.

Linda, 57, also wishes to spare her beloved husband of 34 years, Pepe, and their son and daughter the labour of making decisions at a time when they will already be feeling traumatised.

Linda heard about a Leeds-based company called The Fantastic Funeral Company, which offers a bespoke end-of-life planning service. She says it wasn’t until she discussed her own funeral that she realised how much was possible. You can arrive and depart in a silver carriage pulled by white horses; you could choose a simple linen shroud with no casket, or a recycled paper leaf style shroud made from organic wool; you might have a body-shaped pod covered in gold or silver leaf. You could arrange, as one man in Bradford did, for your ashes to be made into one or more “diamonds” for your widow and daughters to wear.

Linda, who until a few months ago worked as a finance manager, has hand-picked the vicar who will officiate at her funeral service, and he has talked to her at length about her life.

She asked an old friend, to write a “light and funny” tribute, which she has read, and her plain coffin will be covered in a cascade of English spring flowers. No black is to be worn at her funeral.

Her favourite hymn, Praise My Soul the King of Heaven, will be sung, and she will be carried from the church to Nat King Cole’s version of Let’s Face the Music and Dance. Friends will gather at her home before the service to prepare a feast (under the watchful eye of Pepe, a retired chef), and will gather again later to eat and party.

“I’m one of four sisters, and have always been known as the one who organised parties. I do like things done my way,” says Linda, who is clearly in pain, but also emanates a certain sense of relief that everything on her “to do” list has been seen to, after seven consultations over many weeks with Liz Lee from FF.

One of the more difficult of Linda’s requests to fulfil was her wish for her ashes to be buried under an English oak tree. “I wanted to grow again through the tree, and the oak is one of the most useful trees, too.”

Her wish has been granted, and just a few days ago Linda was taken to view her newly-planted sapling in managed woodland at the edge of the deer park on the Ripley Castle Estate near Harrogate. The vicar will bless her ashes as they are buried.

Pepe has found discussion of the arrangements difficult at times, says Linda. “We cry, then talk about it all and calm down again, until the next wave of emotion. We’ve been so happy – that’s why this seems so unfair. But me getting the planning done means we can concentrate on each other in the time that’s left.”

Pepe says he’s pleased that Linda has organised exactly what she wants. “Friends admire her for doing this, and think it’s a good idea. And it will be better for me to know that everything is taken care of as she wanted.”

Both Pam and Linda want their funeral to be a vivid celebration of their life, wit
h the details reflecting their individuality. This increasing personalisation of the funeral is spreading into the mainstream, says Phillip Edwards of Co-Op Funeralcare, the organisation which manages around 80,000 funerals a year in the UK, whose average cost is somewhere between £2,000 and £3,000. Cremation now accounts for 70 per cent of disposals.

“People are much more aware now of the options and choices available. Many people are coming to us knowing exactly what they want, or what their deceased loved one would have wanted. That seems to indicate that we are getting better at discussing death.”

Liz Lee agrees, saying her line of business has made her own family of all ages think and talk openly about how they would like to take their leave eventually.

“It has become normal dinner-time conversation. We each know what the others want, and I feel that is really healthy.”