Highgate Cemetery - death old and new

One might think it macabre, but I found Highgate cemetery a good place to visit in the circumstances. Somewhat grander than Canley Crematorium where mum will be heading. But a place to think. And to see the industry that was the Victorian funeral.

Highgate was a cemetery established for profit. Death was developed as an industry. The average Victorian funeral there would cost £40,000 in today's money, and of course any stinting on the cost would be discouraged as meanness, right down to ladies needing to buy new clothes for every funeral, it being "unlucky" to retain funeral garments in the house. Of course for the most wealthy there were the most splendid mausoleums. One I understand would have cost over £2million in today's money. And Highgate had to compete with other cemeteries for business, so it had to create all the best features, an "Egyptian" tunnel leading to the afterlife, classical tombs and a massive Gothic chapel, catering for C of E on one side and any other religion on the other. If you had the money you weren't going to be turned away, whatever the persuasion of the deceased..

But what I like about the place is the overgrown nature of it - the Gothic monuments covered in ivy. Some might think it creepy (and I believe Hammer films used the place as a set), but I just find it rather poignant. And strangely beautiful with the dappled light coming through the trees.

The West Cemetery still gets burials, and indeed one can go celebrity spotting in a rather maudlin way - Paul Foot, 

Malcolm McLaren,

 Jeremy Beadle

and for me most poignantly Douglas Adams with towel (You need to have read Hitchhikers Guide to get this one).

And most celebrated, Karl Marx. Ironically the rather grand grave was set up by the communist party in later years who insisted on putting him up for display notwithstanding his own desire not to be in a prominent spot. When he died only a handful of people attended his funeral. Contrast Tom Sayers the bare-knuckle fighter whose funeral was attended by 100,000. Odd who was the peaceful man and who was the one that caused untold misery. Hindsight does odd things.

Highgate village itself is worth a visit. Rather pretty and indeed has been so for a long time. A few famous residents aver the years, noy just as a final resting place.

Modern death, I have found, is more shrouded in petty bureaucracy. My attempt to get mum's death certificate was fraught with difficulties. Numerous calls were needed first to get the certificate from the hospital, and then to get an appointment to register it. In its infinite wisdom, the council insist you go through their switchboard to make an appointment, not to the Registry itself. I was given a first available date as 6 September. I pointed out that as I understood it had to be registered within 5 days of issue but was told it was ok because it wouldn't be my fault. As I couldn't get on with funeral, probate, anything really, without it and that I didn't want to come up from London one day merely to pick up the certificate from the hospital and then separately come up just to register it, I was reluctantly put through to the Registry. They said they might be able to fit me in on Tuesday, but I would have to ring again. And I couldn't ring direct but would have to go through switchboard and tell the whole story again. No doubt all in the interests of efficiency.

But then having got everything lined up for the Tuesday, I arrived at Euston station to find all Virgin trains to the Midlands suspended until further notice. Panic. I manged to go to Marylebone and found a slow cross-country train to Birmingham which stopped at Warwick and Leamington which aren't far from Coventry. A colleague e-mailed me with connecting trains but they were hourly and I just missed one, so in the end I had to resort to a taxi from Leamington to the hospital and then to the Registry. Made it in time, but stress levels at the max. But of course if it was allowed the certificate could have been posted from the hospital to the Registry and the registration done by phone. My physical presence was only needed to check the spelling of names which I had spelled out to the Registrar. It did feel a bit like a decision to make the process as hard as possible at a stressful time.

In need of some cheering up, I got a visit from a mate on Friday and we went to my local comedy club. That started badly when the headline act had to pull out for health reasons. But the replacement who went on first (my guess because he had another gig to go to later that night) was very good. Musical comedy, in that he had a guitar and strummed little one liners. Not easy to convey without music, but an example was his summary of every song Bruce Springsteen has ever sung. "Its a Saturday night and I'm driving in my car..." But I liked his earlier work. "Its Friday night and I'm driving my car..." It finished with a mock Jewish comic, Sol Bernstein. I like Jewish humour and so I liked this, although a lot of it was rather nearer the knuckle than say Jackie Mason. "I was married to Esther for 56 years. Who knew the bitch would live that long?"