U is for...

If you have read this far then you haven't given up on me, you didn't abandon all hope at Obituarist...this to me is a very similar job to event planner, no? I think its the celebration of life, i think it is an important time and needs to be special.


I came up with these jobs pre-April and am stuck with them! I thought that maybe I would prefer to be an upholsterer (I would love to learn how to do that, what would be better than being able to upholster your own furniture?) and then I googled jobs yesterday and it came up with suggestions such as underwear model (definitely not in my future) and urologist, and I thought of understudy all on my own (relates to 'A' post). I am trying to remember what originally made me select this other than pure desperation. But I think it is linked to my worse thing in the world thing. What?! What am I talking about? Well, there is one thing that is guaranteed to make me cry (might draw on it when I am an ACT-OR, ha!) and is the worse possible thing I can think of that could happen to someone. What is it? Dying alone. Just the thought of someone not having anyone with them when their time comes fills me up. I wont dwell because it really does upset me, even more so when I think of people who have lost contact with their family. I don't want to bring you down either so moving swiftly on...

Why I would be good at this job.

I really do care about people, about their lives and about making sure that their wishes are honoured even after death.

Why I wouldn't be good at this job.

Well, other than the obvious death thing, I suppose...group bookings?

So, this has been really depressing! I am so sorry, no...wait..please don't go! Lets see if we can't rescue this post with a happy thought/quote or joke! I'll start us off...

This is a true story!

A fair few years ago, after I finished university, I decided to take a trip to visit a friend who had been taking a year out on work experience. She had been working on a Kibbutz in Israel. We decided that I would meet her in Tel Aviv, spend a week travelling around Israel and then go to Jordan and Egypt and return to Israel to fly home. I booked my flight and was looking forward to 4 weeks of adventure. It was 4 weeks full of adventure and I have sooooo many stories that I could bore you all to tears. Why so many? I am a self-confessed naive klutz with an internal compass that only goes left and who you can't take anywhere. I have an older sister and she decided that she would come out for the Israel part of the trip.

Israel is a beautiful country and I absolutely loved it, we were constantly on the go the whole time but we saw a lot and it was great.  About halfway through the trip we decided to leave Jerusalem and head to Tiberius (very highly populated and commercial but was the one place that both me and my sister could have stayed forever). Now, we all had large rucksacks with our stuff in and the worse part of backpacking is lugging your luggage from one place to the next. Armed with instructions from people who had done the trip previously, we hired a taxi to take us. The hostel we were going to try and stay at (none were booked in advance) was off of the main road through the town. So we knew to get out somewhere along the main road and it wouldn't be far. We arrived in Tiberius around 5pm and the street was busy, it is lined with cafes with tables outside (the perks of being a hot climate) and all were full. The three of us, were so happy to be out of a car that we jumped out and grabbed our rucksacks, strapped them on and off we went. Who cares if we looked like tourists and stood out like a sore thumb? Not us! We had the sweaty windswept look down pat. 

We are walking down the street chatting and laughing and start to pass what appeared to be the busiest, noisiest, most happening cafe on the street. We are smiling, laughing, taking it all in and really enjoying the smells and sounds of the town and then it happened...I tripped, lurched forward, tried to stay on my feet by leaning backwards, totally forgot I was carrying a 70lb rucksack and over I went! Landed on my back in the doorway no less, of said Cafe. It would have been OK, accept I couldn't get up, my arms and legs were flailing around all over the place like in a game of dead ants - my sister and friend were no use, they were doubled over, tears streaming down their faces, pitifully holding out a hand each to help me, a hand that they were struggling to hold up! Eventually, without their help, I crawled up. In true Brit fashion I apologised to the Cafe owner and customers and we went on our merry way - the ten yards that were left to our Hostel and I survived to suffer many more tripping offences.