Linda Left Us Song.

 ,

Photography by Pete Saunders©️

Linda Lewis, I say her name and I break into an immediate smile, for that's the only reaction that matched her personality. Linda was many things to a lot of people but first and foremost she was a much-loved daughter, a hugely cherished sister, a well-respected aunt, and a valuable friend. She was warmth, laughter, and determination. Music was a big part of what she loved and who she was, but she was so much more than just music. She was a force of nature and would have left a lasting impression whatever her chosen career.

One of the most entertaining memories I have of Linda (there were so many) was a takeover of the bedroom in her brother's flat at a party. She was perched on the bed chatting to a friend among the coats. Linda decided anyone one who entered the room to sit on the bed and chat, should be subjected to questioning. It was most certainly Linda’s take on The Big Breakfast Bed, she called it The Bed of Truth. If you sat on it you had to answer any question that Linda asked, I saw people enter the doorway and then leave abruptly when she mentioned the purpose of The Bed of Truth. 

Linda was an East End girl through and through who respected and protected her own community fiercely. She knew everyone in the local area, just as many saw her grow from a young girl to a successful musical artist. The industry took the girl out of Canning Town but you could never take Canning Town out of the girl. 

Your vibrancy and beautiful soul will be forever missed, Linda. 

September 1950 / May 2023

I dedicate this blog to an equally talented local musician whom I had the utmost love and respect for, Tony Hill. 

Michelle - Their Wonderful Whistler

Photo Courtesy- Victoria Thompson

The awful but real truth began to break, on Friday afternoon 5 August 2002. A vibrant, enthusiastic, and funny; daughter, sister, mother, and friend had died. There was no warning, and no time to prepare. Her very close group of friends somehow managed to find a way through their grief and shock and begin to support each other. What they all clearly do best. 

      Michelle had a very upbeat attitude and liked to live her life on a happy and upbeat note. Who knew someone so happy and positive would leave so much sorrow and yearning behind them. I have known Michelle since she was at secondary school with a close friend and previous neighbour Vicky Thompson. Although I saw Michelle less frequently over the years, I was always that much more uplifted when we would say goodbye. I was so overwhelmed when I found myself having to say goodbye for a final time. 

Something else, which has resonated with me, is the strength of the relationship Michelle had with ‘the girls’ her close group of friends. The way they really do pull together is not uncommon, but the enthusiasm and genuine love they have for each other is. I have never in my life seen a closer friendship group than this. They have something so precious and have taken the time to nurture it. In celebration and sadness, their strong true friendship shines through. Sisterhood is the better word for it. 

Michelle's only daughter has a group of surrogate mothers to help with the very unpredictable road that is life. They are there to catch her if she falls, and celebrate her successes. She is lucky and blessed to have them all, just as they were lucky and blessed to have Michelle. When we spoke about her, we would say our Michelle, but it is plain for all to see, she was their Michelle and will always be.

I dedicate this blog to all the vibrant, brave, working-class Londoners who showed true courage and love for each other in World Wars 1-2.    WE WILL REMEMBER THEM 

There's Only One Tilly Griffiths!! {Moore}

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

A sad day for us all at Custom House, 30th January 2022, the day our friend Tilly died. We all wanted to share the health battle Tilly went through. The whole community was rooting for her, supporting her children, her sisters, and her parents in the only way that we know. Some of the shops along Prince Regents Lane asked after her, some asking if she needed anything, but all wanting her to continue fighting. That's how she was, always ready to fight for what she believed in, for injustice anywhere she saw it. My last visit to her home about 3 months before her death was a tonic. This family did not need a pandemic to be reminded of how important and precious they are to each other. 

Fast forward to around 3 months later, 4 March 2022. I saw the bottom of Colman Road E16 awash with Tilly's family, friends, and neighbours, braving the cold to see her leave her home for the last time. As I walked among the crowds, greeting many of them I was looking for the best positions to start shooting. 'When the feathers are in sight'. That's what I asked one of the mourners to look out for as I continued to shoot the perfect sight of her grandchildren playing among the sadness, slightly excited that they were dressed up for their nans special day. I ran back to position to see the beautiful white horses in their majestic purple plumes. The colour purple adorned all those with whom Tilly was close and had a special bond. 

All the familiar faces from the area over the last 4 decades of my life are all struggling with the thought of letting Tilly go. The moment had come, and the first group of female pallbearers began getting into position as the coffin stands were placed in front of them. The only thing missing was a red carpet, reflecting her superstar personality as she was carried out by some of her nearest and dearest. Some of the local men from Tollgate Road were drinking cans of beer, an unexpected sight at a funeral but their way of a final toast for her. I don't believe Tilly would have had it any other way, she would not have expected them to change their 'way' on her account. 'Take us as you find us, or don't take us at all.' A no-nonsense attitude from a no-nonsense woman. 

There are big holes in the many places Tilly left behind, Why? because she was a lady with a big personality and her funeral reflected the big love we all had for her. 

I dedicate this blog to all the strong women from Custom House who left us before her and to the strong women still there.

Burley Road Is Broken

 On the 11th September after 4.15pm, I was standing outside the chapel at City of London Cemetery paying my respects to an old neighbour and friend Danny Heron. The final song was 'Show Me Love' by Robin S. I looked around at the sea of people who all came to say goodbye. We were all showing him love, showing him pain, showing him tears, showing him sadness. For a moment I saw his piercing blue eyes and warm smile, I even heard him say "All these for me, leave off". Anyone looking at the amount of people there would have wondered what he did to touch so many. 

Danny shared laughter as a young boy with me, my brother and other friends in the area. He enjoyed Shipman Youth Club Tuesday night disco with us all alongside his twin brother Jason. Back then, Madness was one of his favourite bands among others with artists on the Two Tone label. The two of them would go out in their navy blue crombies, Fred Perry shirts with jeans and jodhpur boots. They both took their meticulous 'put together' look very seriously. As Danny got older he became more gentle and quieter, he became the steady one among some of his wild and sometimes reckless friends but then, his unforgettable, loud laugh would jolt you back to realising that he really was a big presence.

Having seen Danny a few years ago at the funeral of one of his best friends, I ran into him and his wife Tina last year. they came into my favourite Indian restaurant (theirs too) in Essex to collect their take-away. It was not ready so they sat down at my table. It was a bit like a speed date, trying to get as much catching up done before their food was ready. It was so good to see him again as it had been a few years before that. Speaking to him that night I was pleasantly reminded of what a gentle soul he was, a real prince among men. I will miss him, like so many of his friends will. His entire family feel his loss so deeply, a loss they will have to find a way to manage. I keep hearing the song 'The Prince' by Madness, it always reminds me of him and like the song ends; Bring Back The, Who Is The, We Want The Prince.....                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

God bless you Dan and may the arms of your wonderful parents enfold you.

I dedicate this blog to Peter and Phoebe Heron. 

Thank You For The Orange Juice

 

©Lady Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

©Lady Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

Mrs Graham was just that to me; occasionally I would use her name Esther, but always after I used her official title. Esther and Sid lived in their home at Kerry Close Custom House, for many years. They had ten children, Dennis, Sid, Vera, Yvonne, Corrine, Janine, Lorna, Wayne, Kieran, and Harry. Their son Harry was a very close friend of mine. Being part of the 'Kerry Close' community was a great thing, it brought with it a sense of freedom and endless time, just nearby was another little peace of community heaven, Murray Square. All over Custom House there were little pockets of the same. In the summer we'd be hot and thirsty running around, but we never had an endless or regular amount of pocket money. More families were bigger then; mine included, and there wasn't always enough to go around, running into a sweetshop for refreshments didn't happen every day. When the heat got too much Esther would come to our rescue. She would make orange juice for us and put them all on a tray in plastic cups and we would rush to get them, like marathon runners at a water stop. 

Esther and her husband Sid, lived through a time when mixed couples were just not tolerated at all. You had to be made of very strong stuff to withstand harsh abuse both verbally and sometimes physically. Esther and Sid were among the early beacons of hope for other mixed couples. She was clearly placed on a pedestal by Sid, and he affectionately called her 'Duchess', she was everything to him. Custom House then, was not necessarily considered the most popular place to set up home for people of colour, although the neighbouring area Canning Town was growing into one of the largest black communities in London, with over 100 families living in the area; other places deemed as popular for the Caribbean community were; Forest Gate, Brixton, Notting Hill, Clapton, and Stoke-Newington. 

On Friday 11 September, Esther's funeral took place. As I approached the close I could see the horses and carriage outside Esther's family home. There were family members as well as some friends milling around the entire close. It felt like the whole close was one family at that moment. I paid my respects to some family members, then watched Esther leave home for the last time. I went on to the cemetery to wait for the cortege there. I was met at the cemetery with more family members. Even though I know the Graham family is very large; I was reminded of the scale when I saw them all together. After around fifteen minutes the cortege arrived and the first cars door opened. Esthers' son Harry came out of the car and straight into my arms to hug me and thank me for coming. Although he hasn't physically seen me for many years it still felt like before, when as kids we used to throw arms over each others shoulders so we could chat while walking along the road.                                                                       

Restrictions resulting from the recent pandemic meant that only a certain number of people were allowed in the chapel; but I think that would have been the case anyway since the family is very large. I stayed to see Esther being carried into the chapel to a fitting song, 'You're The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me', by Gladys Knight. Unfortunately I had to leave soon after they went in for the service, because I had to be at the second funeral of the day. It's the knowing that Esther is no longer here at all that feels strange. Like her dear husband Sid before her, there was a nice nostalgic feeling and security knowing that she was still here, now they are both gone that particular chapter in my life has in effect come to an end. God bless you Esther, and may you have eternal peace and light with your beloved Sid. 

Thank you for the orange juice and being part of the fabric, that is my life. 

I dedicate this blog To the wonderful Sidney Graham.

 

  

 

Farewell Ma Lynch, Its Been Good To Know You

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

On Wednesday 7th May, Sharon Lynch was laid to rest. Her daughter on the right would sometimes call her dad pa. A nice old and familiar term for a father. Sharon was definitely ma, a mother figure for so many.

I have known Sharon for a number of years, since the age of 13-14 years old. She watched us make some horrendous fashion mistakes, and our excitement about a night out when we were old enough to do it. If we asked her opinion about whether something looked good, or if it suited us, she would tell us straight that she didn’t like it and to try something else. Rather than force her opinion as to what the reasons were, she would just leave us with the time to re-think it.
I can honestly say, I never heard her raise her voice to her children,  {two girls and a boy} she just had a particular look on her face and would use fewer words, enough to let you know she’d be talking about it later.
She was never in a rush and we always felt relaxed around her. Sharon always had time to listen to all of us. We sometimes would eat in the pie mash shop that her sister Rita had,and as other customers started to come in she would move us to a corner so that we wasn't in the way, we'd only have to leave if it got too busy. It was one of the few places that we didn't get thrown out of.

The coronavirus prevented me from being at her funeral, or standing alongside so many who social distanced to bid her farewell on her final journey, as I have a high risk family member.

When I look back on my life I can remember a few parents like Sharon who were instrumental to my experiences and what I learned about family values and the importance of looking out for each other.
Rest in peace Sharon, it's been good to know you.

Victims Of Crime

                                                           

  ©Lady Priscilla Etienne
Kiyan Prince 18 May 2006

How many more untimely deaths can we take?


I need to point out that the term 'victims of crime' shelters beneath a very big umbrella. Primarily the victims family suffer, and then the perpetrator's family, friends, partners, husbands and wives. It causes a ripple affect for all extended family members on both sides. Most of the younger victims of crime we hear about are oftentimes in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or they were trying to smooth a group argument, protect someone else and were even in fear of their own life. The latter has at times resulted in the victims losing their life by their own instrument.

There are remarkable people who are working tirelessly to re-educate young people about the choices they make when it comes to human life. The simple action of thinking first, retreating instead of advancing, and the benefits of doing this are being discussed in many schools, colleges and youth clubs around the country. Where are these rich and valuable amounts of advice and guidance going?
Are they falling on deaf ears? Because there's still a lot of teenage genocide happening. We will end up with a pretty big generation gap.
      When the Grenfell fire happened, the community came together as one group, bravely and publicly displayed their anguish, and began their fight for justice for their friends and family. Their voices were heard because they all worked together to deliver the same opinions and beliefs. The people that lived at Grenfell all suffered the same needless tragedy, so they all have a common goal of a satisfactory and fair outcome for all involved.

In 2010 I had the honour of working with the parents of ten families who lost their children to gun and knife crime and gang violence.They kindly let me and my colleagues into their homes, places of work, and into their lives.  Seven out of the ten sets of parents we worked with started their own foundations in their taken children's' memories. I began to think then, as I do more so now {in the wake of Grenfell} that these foundations could have their voices heard much louder if they were joined together as one large foundation.
    The murder of Stephen Lawrence in 1993 was a shocking turning point. There were not so many murders like his happening then. The work Stephens mother began with building his foundation led to some great things and of course her tireless fight for justice for her son, led to her O.B.E. It was a hard fight for her but his was the first foundation so there was no competing with anyone else for recognition or publicity. A primary foundation like his would be a perfect platform for all the other parents to become part of. A large foundation for all the victims with an appropriate name. I really believe it's time.

I dedicate this blog to some young people who are greatly missed every day by family and friends.

Stephen Lawrence, Kiyan Prince, Sabina Rizvi, Charlotte Polius, Terry Booker, Tommy Harley, Robert Levy
Anton Hyman, Daniel Ross, Damilola Taylor, Ben Kinsella, Michael Simon Wright, Bobby Litambola, Adam Regis, Stephen Lewis,
Danny O'Shea.

Death And Sausage Rolls

©Lady Priscilla Etienne

It is the morning of the funeral that I'm attending instead of covering. I always think of having a cup of tea first, getting dressed, then have breakfast. Trouble is, I never seem to be able to manage the breakfast. My stomach churns and I feel nervous and anxious. It seems most of us do, so we tend not to eat.
         When we suffer the shock and grief of a bereavement, everything we swallow after that has no taste and has a distinct texture of cardboard. So we have the long time leading up to the funeral barely eating, then virtually nothing on the day. Food deprivation plays a big part in feeling unwell and physically unstable after a bereavement. Meanwhile for those of us that drink alcohol the odd drink or three can help a little.

Gradually over the years, I have seen this change. I have attended a funeral where it was so beautiful and lavish (exactly like a wedding), the food of course was amazing and a lot of effort went into the presentation of the food. I remember thinking how wonderful it was to see that all of the mourners were considered. It can be a long process, from funeral service to the wake, and it's usually at this point that appetites can begin to return.

There is a Starbucks bar at a funeral home in South Carolina. The funeral staff are all starbucks trained, a really useful way of mixing sustenance with death. I'm all for practicality and ease during grieving. I was in a cab recently going to a hospital appointment, and just around the corner, we passed a funeral directors albeit out of sight from the front entrance, the driver said that she found it distasteful and said that many of clients found it upsetting.
I do not. I find it enterprising to have it so nearby. A refreshing crossover.


See you at the next posting.

The Theatre of Life

Lady Priscilla Etienne Funeography©

If you were asked to recall the greatest moments in your life, could you do it? The birth of your baby, your wedding day, your first job, your first car, or the first house you bought. For each of us there is something different. I could never be accused of waiting in the wings, or blending into the background. I see my life as being theatrical, many times ending up centre stage. I have always been colourful, always drawn to the unusual. In the past couple of years there has been increase in the term 'Making Memories' accompanying pictures being taken and posted on social media. As a photographer when I take a picture I think about the moment it is taken, not what I'm leaving behind.

I still have and use photo albums. I like to feel the pictures, and smell the change of the albums with age. Sometimes they throw up dust when I open and close them (it all adds to the experience) there is nothing like it. I want people to look at my images, see the moment and just for a short time, be there.
This is what I feel life is for all of us.
   We are born, we are given a name, a stage name. We are then expected to develop into the character our parents want or expect. We become the lead part and they remain completely focused on what they want us to deliver.
  When I chose Funeography as a vocation I knew exactly what I wanted to give to my audience. I wanted to give hope, laughter, tears and an accurate reflection of who the person who died was, by capturing the day as well as the many people who shared their life.

I wonder.... When do we know if the whole performace was good enough? If we've given our best, or if everyone who saw appreciated it, or even understood it?
Well, as long as you understood, and if you had to explain your life story you could do it well and to a captive audience.


I dedicate this blog to Terry Ronald, whose life performance has turned into a wonderful book and now poised for a theatrical audience, and for finding incredible strength, despite the exceptionally difficult loss he has so recently suffered with the death of his sister Tina. 

See you at the next posting.

The Waiting Room

Priscilla Etienne Funeography 

                                                             
We're here, going about our daily business, dealing with every day things as well as difficult things.
The next time we are aware, we are somewhere else. Somewhere we don't recognise. Maybe with people we don't know. There's questions lots of questions.
Where are we?
How did we get here? How long have we been here?
How are we going to get back?  
    Upon losing my friend and experiencing grief for the first time, many years ago I imagined 'The waiting room'. A place where you go when you die. The in-between so to speak. There are other people there waiting to be collected. It is always a member of the family that comes to collect you. regardless of how you got there, they are always pleased to see you because they have missed you. If your arrival was abrupt or unexpected they might even tell you off straight after and say; You're not supposed to be here".
I try to picture every detail of the waiting room. There would be landscape pictures on the walls to encourage calm thoughts, to slow the speed of the questions.
It wouldn't be particularly big but there would always be plenty of room. There would be no unhealthy sounds indicating some of the illnesses that people waiting had and no physical disabilities, for when you arrive in the waiting room you have left all illnesses in your physical body.

I always wished that I could sit with those in the waiting room. Maybe find out what last wishes were intended, and if they had seen and spent time with everyone they had wanted to.

Imagine the different ages of everyone in the waiting room and the different achievements in life.
There are always newcomers to the waiting room. In the last few weeks three people I know have arrived.

Dolly Barry
Captain Gerry Coveney
Scott Punnet

These three incredible people are so diverse, they have all lived full and vibrant lives. They have all been big achievers who have made a very strong and unforgettable impact on the lives of those they have left behind. If I could say one last thing to each of them in the waiting room, this is what I would say;
Dolly Barry: You always had your door open for a welcoming cup of tea or a glass of wine. I think you were a really good listener with a soothing calm voice. You were a bit like a counsellor. You had a way of making people feel at ease.

Captain Gerry Coveney: Sir, when I was with G Coy 4RGJ the few conversations we had were valuable to me. I respected you for various things, your firm but calm manner, your kindness, but most of all because you worked your way through the ranks to the position you held with great pride.
I saw the way you held your daughter-in-law and my old friend Lisa, in the highest regard and even though I would see you occasionally outside of army life I never dropped your title sir. On to a place even more glorious, to match your achievements in life.

Scott Punnett: If you have to wait here too long you'll start getting restless, wanting to see all the fabulous friends that went before you. I bet you've been boasting to the other people here, about the tributes that have come flooding in for you. Do me one favour Scott, give Mervyn Webber a kiss and hug from me, and an even bigger one from Lorrayn, she misses him every day. If you can still generate the warmth and love we all had for him thirty years later, you would have definitely made your mark. We'll all miss you Scott, now go and liven the place up some more.

Dear Samantha Dear,

©Priscilla Etienne

Dear Sam,

A few weeks ago, I was at your funeral. As I approached the chapel, I could see lots of familiar faces. Some waved at me, some didn't recognise me but that's probably because my hairs long now. I can almost see the look of surprise on your face at how different I look, the same look almost everyone was giving me.
Me and Roger went together and we got there the same time as you did. Just as you likely held up traffic when teaching people to drive, you did the same that day. At one point I felt like I was back at Freemasons Road as I chatted to Joanne and Billy Jobson, who I haven't seen for many years.
               I expected to stand outside the chapel for the service because I knew inside it would definitely be standing room only. I went inside and took my place against the wall at the side of the chapel. I couldn't take my eyes off your son Sean the whole time, except when I looked at your coffin and smiled at the learner and new driver signs that were on there. I was roughly the same age as him when my mum died. I started to think about the many different feelings associated with grief that Sean has ahead of him. I wonder how his life will turn out now, how much this will change him as a person. I was certainly changed.
As Bette Midlers 'Wind Beneath My Wings' played, a ladybird came and landed on the back of the man who was seated in front of Jim's sister Kim. She turned and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed it, she saw that I did. As she reached out to it, it opened it's wings and flew up to the ceiling then flew off. Right at the point of the song that says "Fly, fly, fly away, you let me fly so high that I can almost touch the sky". The timing couldn't have been more perfect. It felt as though it was you being released and free to go.

I wanted to be there to pay my last respects to you Sam, I always liked you, I found you to be discreetly popular. I also wanted to be there for your son Sean because I know he will get great comfort and a sense of pride seeing people come from all over to support him and show how much you were cared for and loved. I know you will be desperately missed.


God bless you Sam

Love Cilla



I dedicate this blog to Sean Dear who is often in my thoughts.

Brown Bread

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

Frank Bruno appeared on Good Morning Britain  and commented on whether he would have liked to fight Ali, when he was interviewed by Piers Morgan, upon his death by saying; "The mans brown bread, I would prefer to talk about his achievements if you don't mind Piers". Simple terms for a simple man, with some simple values. In years gone by, death was a more solemn affair. We stood outside the family home in silence, no eating or smoking, waiting for the funeral procession to leave.
When we arrived outside the church or chapel, there was also an appropriate silence. Where are we now? The priest has to ask for doors to be shut so he can be heard over the laughing and talking outside. Yes, I said laughing, I've witnessed this many times. 

We are faced with so much death and destruction at the moment. Yes, I know people die every day and many innocent lives are being lost in wars and conflict all over the world. What we have now is an eerie matter-of-fact attitude beginning to emerge. Every time we turn on the television, it seems as though we're turning it on to see who's died, before we concentrate on other news.

            Over many years of capturing all different types of funerals, I have seen on a number of occasions that children have not been privy to family funerals, because parents want to cushion the effect grief can have on them.

We live in times where there is an increase of disease, tragedy, conflict and violence, which is taking life. Surely now would be an appropriate time to have the conversation of death and dying with your children. All newspapers, news channels, radio and internet media are constantly reporting on death. Since our children wander in and out of rooms at home, hear the radio indoors or in the car and glance at newspapers and passing billboards, it's impossible to disguise.

Let's bring the importance of human life back into the arena and re-teach eachother how precious it is. The more we become hardened to death the more we will devalue life. I do feel that is part of the problem with young people, who presently suffer enormous loss of life through violence. Something that so many of us have had to endure. Lets bring it back, bring back respect, dignity and morals.
These things have been missing for a very long time.

HONOUR AND OBEY

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

It seems that the long term partner of Orson Welles, is interfering with his final request to release negatives for his last film to be made. The movie called 'The Other Side Of The Wind', has been funded by donors who are fans of Orson Welles. The amount raised is almost two hundred and eighty nine thousand towards the movies completion.
It was shot between  the nineteen seventies and eighties but was unfinished when he died in nineteen eighty five. Clint Eastwood and Sophia Coppolla are among the high profile financial backers.
The movie was set to be completed on the sixth of May last year which was Orson's one hundredth Birthday. There are unconfirmed reports that his partner, Oja Kodar still has all the negatives and won't release them. Orson clearly wanted the film to be made and asked his friend who starred in it, Peter Bogdanovich to help make it happen. So why does his partner allegedly want to hold on to it?
Above material gains for such actions, accepting and following someone's last wishes should be paramount.

Linda Bellingham's sons are having a different problem with her husband Michael Pattimore. He has allegedly deprived them of their inheritance and family home.
Many parents would want their children to have some type of security or keepsake in the event of their death. Families that are left behind must not stand in the way of last wishes. They may not make sense, they may not be agreeable, they may even be ridiculous, but the best way to show how much they were valued in life is to honour and obey them in death.

I dedicate this blog to Prince Rogers Nelson, who honoured the craft of music and never obeyed rules, but always for positive reasons. May he rest in peace.

The Gunns Are Gone

The Gunn's are gone from Devonshire Road, Custom House East London.

A few weeks ago I was at my dear friends dads funeral, Teddy Gunn. Two of his daughters and granddaughters were wearing his caps. He was a chelsea boot and flat cap man and rarely left the house without a cap. It was a nice touch when his daughters approached his coffin to lay their single red roses followed by removing his caps they were wearing and placing them on top.
Teddy and Victoria raised their five children and lived a really simple but busy life.
I have known them and their wonderful family for 27 years. To me they had a bit of a double act routine going on, Teddy was quick with his comments but Vicky was just as quick with her answers. A lot of the time it was hard for me to hide my laughter.

In the end the house didn't belong to them, they belonged to the house and to the road. My last reason to walk down Devonshire Road has gone with them.

I'll miss you Teddy, as I miss Victoria.

I dedicate this blog to your great granddaughter Ruby.

"Life Is A Waste Of Time. Time Is A Waste Of Life. Get Wasted All The Time And You'll Have The Time Of Your Life". Billy Connolly.

On Tuesday I had the great pleasure of seeing Billy Connolly at Hammersmith Apollo. As I walked up to the entrance, an equally eager Stephen Merchant was waiting to go in. There were lots of people, including me taking pictures of the outside of the building. I don't know if they wanted a general memento of the evening or whether they wanted it 'just in case'.

His tour is called the High Horse and he doesn't sit down once in the two hours. That pleased me, and I think surprised many. Touring is really tiring for those in good health, so it's definitely equally difficult for Billy. The change in the amount of movement he does, screams out, as all he can manage now is a small march; as he mimics his granddad coupled with his dislike of socialising. The record for spending time with his grandad was seven minutes and he got to six when introducing Pamela.
His memory is faltering a bit more now and when he stopped a few times there was a voice shouting the line he just said, to jog his memory, although at one point when this happened he responded by saying; "I know where I am, I'm trying to think of how to fu*king say it". His left arm now stays mostly bent and against his side. He called it his 'Invisible raincoat holder'.

Although he hasn't left us yet, the fact that he has taken part in programmes about mortality and has embarked on this tour, feels very much like a farewell, and I'm gonna miss this, kind of vibe.

It's unusual for me to write about someone while they are still here, but I couldn't help getting emotional while watching him, and realising that I am beginning to miss the Billy Connolly I remember. A truly gifted, and wonderfully warm person.

See you at the next posting.
   

Tony Bird

As this year comes to a close, I wanted to post this blog about a special person rather than christmas, we will have many more christmas's but only memories of those who have gone. 

When I first saw a video recorder in Lisa Feddons' house in 1978, I was amazed; I was thinking how wonderful technology was becoming.

I felt exactly the same when I walked into the grand bedroom of Tony and Patsy Bird, overlooking Victoria Park London. There, in the corner  was a very grand Corby Trouser Press. This piece of home luxury was usually meant for the affluent, but  Tony was very successful. From humble beginnings at the Golden Lion Pub Abbey Arms with a car front next door, to providing luxury Winnebago RV's for film and television cast and crew on location. He was indeed a self made success. His great success never changed him though, he appreciated everything and treated everyone equally.

I met Tony 31 years ago at age 15. He was calm, level headed and he had a natural way of making us feel safe (that is his step daughters Kellie and Sally and all their friends). He was one of the kindest men I knew, as was his wonderful brother Peter whom he is now re-united with, at long last. I know he missed him every day.

Since Tony's very recent death, his mother has also died. I will never forget you Tony, and one of my fondest memories is of you dancing with much loved wife Patsy in your favourite pub near your previous home at Victoria Park; to the song, River of Dreams by Billy Joel.

Here's the link for the song which will always remind me of him.

 http://youtu.be/hSq4B_zHqPM

I know I can speak for the friends of his step daughters Kellie and Sally Woods when I say; we'll miss you Tony, and thank you for all your kindness when we were young and also throughout our lives, We'll never forget you. 

I dedicate this blog to the grand, but very grounded Tony Bird. 

See you at the next posting.

Funeography, The Final Frame???

©Priscilla Etienne

It seems that news of my health is beginning to leak, I thought I should get this blog posted and set the record straight.

I got an email from a woman called Anita who has read about my ill health somewhere. So.... to the bare facts.
I have had osteoarthritis of the neck, spine and lumbar spine for the past ten years. It's now showing itself in my knees which prevents me bending to a certain point. I can't kneel down on my knees at all now.  My thumbs get really painful and stiff, and I drop things a lot. I've never dropped a camera though.
I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which has slowly become worse over the past 5 years, I hit daily periods of extreme exhaustion and if I talk during these moments I sound drunk.  I also now have Fibromyalgia, so every day my body feels stiff, aches and gets painful.
Although journalism is a combined with Funeography, the dynamic shots I have taken over the years have become more difficult; as has climbing up walls and running to get in front of a funeral procession. It's taken quite some time to get used to the changes.

Am I just going to sit in my armchair and let this beat me? Definitely not. I will always do photography on a level that I can manage. My journalist blog stays and other aspects of Funeography, it's my baby and will remain mine. I guess that the fantastic physical life I have led; Youth Work Manager, Bodybuilder, Territorial Army (4th Battalion Royal Green Jackets, now known as The Rifles) has caught up with me. I don't have it within my nature to stop completely, so I'll settle for a more relaxed pace.
I have now cut right back on regular funerals, and I am undergoing some final tests to determine the extent of whats going on. I am also caring for my son, who now has not just one life-changing disease but two. Ulcerative Pancolitis and Liver Disease, he's doing ok right now but there are lots of medication, hospital checks etc.

      I am very pleased and proud that I have been able to provide so many families with treasured memories, and be able to help them along the very long, never- ending road of bereavement. I want to thank all of those families for letting me into your homes, and sharing the most difficult, early part of your grief. I need to thank some of the wonderful people I have met within the funeral industry who gave me hope when I needed it. In particular Colin (Corky) Liddell and Stuart Poulton. You both know what you did. And Colin.. My promise to you still stands.

I've always jumped on the back of life, wrestled with it and did as much as I can to make it challenge me, making sure I am never forgotten,  and as I close this post I am thinking of an exceptional young man, who got as much out of life as he could and will most certainly not be forgotten........ I dedicate this blog to Brennan Small-Doyle.

See you at the next posting.

Goodbye Mr Cain

Many of us are clearly saddened by the departure of Martin Cain. Mr Cain to most my age, and what a man he was. While I've been writing Sara's (his daughters') Lifebook I've discovered what a remarkably strong and determine person he was. Nothing was unreachable and everything was possible. He was conditioned to succeed whatever the odds. His strong sense of survival was ultimately for his family; his wife, his children, and his grandchildren.

Mr Cain, there's no need to fight anymore, you've achieved what you set out to do. The one person whose absence you've found the most difficult to bare, has been waiting with open arms. 

You are now reunited with Smarty in eternal peace... Or perhaps with eternal music.

I dedicate this blog to Mr Martin Cain and Smarty Cain.

Wasted Time

What a year!! it's been full on action packed, emotional, annoying, funny, frustrating.. It's been life.
It's coming up to the end of the year, and right near the end I have had four losses of wonderful human life. Four people that really knew how to live. I know many of us think we know how to do this, but it's not easy. Three of my losses are people who were in their 70's and 80's. Teresa Costello was my neighbour. She welcomed me with open arms and doors when I moved into her street six years ago. The wonderful Mr Reid (father of Mark), he fought until he couldn't fight no more. Victoria Gunn who was always so active and full of energy, she even started driving in her 60's.

The most recent being Dionne Lynch. I spoke to her a few weeks ago about her party she was planning in January and the points we were up to in our lives. That chat was long overdue and the next time I was seeing her was after christmas but before her party. When the news came through on that Sunday night that she had died, my first reaction was anger. I haven't felt like that around death in a long time but I knew that she still wanted to do so much more. I knew she wanted to see her daughter do so much more. I'm laughing a little to myself as I write this because I can almost hear her saying; 'What do you mean go.. Go where? I'm not ready to go anywhere yet'.

The amount of times I hear people say 'That's it, I'm going to live my life differently, grab every moment because you never know'. It's not long before they slip back into their old ways. I have always been annoyed by that to be honest, It's not that hard to make conscious changes and stick with at least some of them. At this time of year we all make decisions to get the perfect present for our friends and family, look at how much it will be, concentrate on getting the money, then buying it.
When can we begin to do this with our parts of our lives?
That was one of the things I liked about Dionne. She wouldn't just say, she would do. She was like that right to the end.
I have pure admiration for the strength that Dionne had despite being unwell. I'll miss her very much.
My love and thoughts are with the entire Lynch family.

I dedicate this blog to Teresa Costello, Mr Reid, and Victoria Gunn.
       

Nine Nights For Mr Reid

©Priscilla Etienne

Last Saturday me and my son Kross went to the home of a very dear, old friend. He is also the godfather of my son. His father recently died and we went to the last night of the Nine Nights. This is a very important part of the bereavement process for Carribean culture. It's practiced in Jamaica, Guyana and Dominica, with roots in African tradition. Friends and family gather at the home of the deceased and share prayers, hymns, memories, condolences, then eat and drink together.

In the past, this would be a more quiet and reserved evening, but this has changed in keeping with modern times. The Nine Nights celebration is a time to be joyful that the deceased is no longer suffering. 

Tradition states that the spirit of the deceased moves around the party on the ninth and final night gathering food and saying goodbye before moving on to the resting place. 

             This tradition appears to be fading out though. So when there are plans for Nine Nights to take place, I do make an effort to go. I think it's equally important for our children (younger generation) to experience it.

When I do go I'm instantly transported back to my childhood. There is always rum consumed, and with absolutely no mixers. It's the only time I get to spend time with Carribean elders and it's a real need for me. 

Later on this morning family, friends and the local community will be saying goodbye to the wonderful, unforgetable, Mr Reid. He leaves behind his devoted wife and vibrant children. 

Everyones love and support are with them. 

I dedicate this blog to Mr Reid. God bless him and always keep him.