I walked to Upper Greenfield for the funeral. I had never actually met the person who had died. His name was Albert Newcome and he had been the brother of Freda Newcome who kept the town library. I know her fairly well but had been surprised nonetheless when she had asked my brother Wyn and I to be pallbearers for her brother. It seems he had grown up in Greenfield Bottom and had wanted to be buried here in the graveyard we share with Upper Greenfieldians.

Both Wyn and I had, of course, agreed to support her in this request. Accordingly Wyn, myself, Owain and Frank Rumpo were there at the ready when Mr Hatchett arrived with the hearse. For the sake of balance, Owain had decided that he at 6'3" and my brother at 6'4" should take the rear of the casket, while I at 5'11" and Frank Rumpo at 5'7" should take the front. There seemed nothing wrong with this at the time and 102

we agreed. We picked up the coffin from the hearse and the procession started off.

The Rev Zvingler took the lead slowly swinging his censer before him. Next came Miss Newsome and a scattering of family and friends dabbing at their eyes with an assortment of paper tissues. Then came the coffin and behind came Mr Hatchett.

I don't know if you have ever carried a coffin but it's a complicated affair of shoulders, linked hands under the coffin and unused hands in support. It's also a finely balanced affair, and while Owain had been right to suggest we paired according to nearest sizes he had not taken gradient into account.

The path in our churchyard is very steep from the gate to the church and also from the church to the lower cemetery and the older plots. This meant that going down the path the coffin pointed downwards with our two tallest people at the back and the shortest at the front. And those of us at the front were at a disadvantage. I don't know whether the deceased was a short man but I do know that both Frank and I were starting to feel movement from above as we moved. I mentally dismissed the first stupid thought to occur to me that maybe we had a live person in the coffin, but as we moved further, the body moved rapidly from one end to the other, ours being the other. The sudden shift in weight caught Frank and me unawares and seemed to push the coffin forwards. We changed pace to keep up with it but that caused more consternation as our move started to pull it off the shoulders of Owain and Wyn.

Our forward surge had also put us amongst the mourners who parted like the Red Sea at our arrival, 103

and also brought us to the back of the Rev Zvingler who must have heard our hurried steps. He spun round and viewing a coffin about to hit him in the head jumped off the path. Unfortunately, he tripped and fell. He started rolling down the hill until coming to a halt beside a gravestone.

Meanwhile, at our rear Mr Hatchett had managed to grab the missile and slow its forward momentum. Frank and I had reached a run at this time and almost shot out from under it.

However, with some effort we managed to slow and with as much dignity as we could muster, we edged ourselves backwards until we were back in position. Owain and Wyn did the same thing from their end.

We managed to reach the church safely, though by this time we led the mourners and the Rev Zvingler, who had just gingerly regained the path to get there in last position. It made me think of something biblical in my near hysteria - "those who are last shall be first", and I had to smother an insane desire to giggle.