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.