What a difference a place makes. Working in Jersey had been warm sunshine, endless mugs of tea and no rain. My next port of call was again in the south of sunny England. A public mortuary situated in the middle of a cemetery.

Here I'm rationed to one mug of tea in the morning, no shampoo to clean the bodies and I'm told not to dirty the sponge!

As I walked down the street in search of food. I came across what looked like a comedy sketch, although it was not funny for those concerned. A Rolls Royce hearse had broken down in the middle of the road going chuga chuga chuga, causing large queues and mayhem.

Now I am working in London and read in the newspaper of two rival funeral directors arguing over a body. This resulted in one of them stealing the keys of the other's hearse leaving the second firm stuck in a car park with a body in the back and the family wondering what to do? The owner of the hearse, with the help of the family, ended up hot-wiring the hearse in order to proceed with the funeral. Yes what a difference a place makes.

Some time ago, I was at one of my previous posts when a large deceased lady arrived. A post mortem had been carried out to ascertain the cause of death. She was with us for a number of weeks waiting for to be buried and like several bodies recently, this body would not fit into the deep freeze. To keep her from decomposing further, we had her ,with permission, embalmed. A six point injection was carried out using good quality embalming fluids and additives and we managed to achieve a good result with continuous massaging of the hands and fingers and then sewing the body back together. Both the embalmer and I were pleased with our finished presentation of the body. A number of weeks later a good friend came to visit me, and the day that she was leaving by train to go home I wanted to finish work early to say goodbye. I was already on the bus to see her - when I got a call; it was the mortuary manager. Could I come back into work, there was a problem - and proceeded to explain. Getting back off the bus I rang my friend explaining that I might not get to say good bye or at best it would be much later. I was livid. This day of all days when I needed to be somewhere! As it happened, the coroner's officer had rang to say that he was bringing the husband of the large lady that we had embalmed prior and with little notice.

The problem had arisen because the husband was an alcoholic and had already been to see his wife a number of times. But, he had spent the funeral expenses on drink and so the body was not able to be buried. Now that she had been embalmed, we found it next to impossible to remove her from the fridge. She was completely solid! So if we managed to get her out, there would be no way we could place her back - and when would the funeral be taking place?

With heaving and pulling and from side to side we managed to extract the body from the fridge and then make her more presentable. All this time I was looking at my watch. We were told that the viewing would not take long, but as it was turning out the husband wanted to stay on and on until sadly he was gently persuaded to leave. Both the mortuary manager and I then promptly locked up the mortuary and got ready to speed our way to the station.

The mortuary manager offered me a lift to meet my friend. As I waited to jump in the car I glanced across and saw the husband. Even though I selfishly wanted to go quickly to meet my friend, I couldn't help feel compassion for the man whom I was watching. There on the park bench was the husband; with continuing alcoholic abuse his face was beetroot red and he looked very unkempt, but worse, he was completely drunk and crying like a baby. The coroner's officer was speaking firmly and sternly to him, telling him that he needed to come up with money for the undertaker - all in all a very sad sight to see.

This harrowing tale of a grown man whose life was ruined by his addiction to drink, who had sunk to the depths, was crying like a child, both because of his grief and also because of the tenacious hold that alcohol had taken upon him.

But I had my own selfish need also. I needed to see and say goodbye to my friend as she was leaving and the clock was ticking with less than ten minutes left.

We sped on our way to the station taking every short cut available and with lots of under the breath muttering, I made it. Like a scene out of a film, my phone to my ear as I enquired whether or not she had already departed, I ran to greet her. A quick hug and rapid explanation before we said our good byes.

After the train departed, my thoughts were very mixed - glad to see my friend but sad that she was leaving. Then sorry for the drunk husband and his hapless situation.

The hopelessness of some peoples' lives. More so when viewed in the sun soaked happy pretence of a seaside town. But it is only along ones journey in life we are able to value the highs and lows of humanity and the choices that some of us make.

o0o

What a difference a week makes and how a year can change so much from the year before.

All last year and the year before that, I was being asked to cover this mortuary, that mortuary, can I travel far up north and then down to the south and west of England. Not to mention there are the big cities where its mortuaries are like a conveyer belt with bodies coming in one after the other and post mortems on a what feels like a non stop no rest working day. Now at present, work can feel like a memory with government cutbacks, it looks like a lean mean winter with maybe a dry hot summer work wise?

I always thought that when prices go up, so does your pay in order to cover. But now I tend to see with these cut backs, same job, less pay but expenses rising steeply resulting with what you earn, you have to pay for accommodation in order to just stay there to work next week. On one job I was being asked to consider, it was costing me more money to go to work than what I would have been earning. Money is not everything, but it helps.

I had just got off the boat after returning from Belfast and travelling over 200 miles to get into work when I had a phone call with regards to do an embalming... Ouch argh... Just when I was so far away, I was finally being asked and after me staying in that area for a few months with no calls.

I received the call on a Wednesday, the funeral director could keep the body till I finished where I was covering and then drive down to the other side of England some fours driving on motorways. Then take a plane out Saturday morning and after I landed, I made my way to the funeral place and prepared to start my embalming. The price for the embalming I charged was less than my total airfare and travel, I couldn't charge that astronomical fee to the family. But that was the least of my worries.

I was excited with the prospects of keeping my hands in and testing my skills, but working in strange surroundings and with equipment that is not yours and to find the fluids that you may not be used to or prefer is a daunting task. Even more daunting for me that morning was that I had a member of the firm watching my every move, where I was going to make my incision and what amounts of fluid and at what rate of flow.

As always in cases like these, him watching and me looking at the body thinking, where do I make my incision, leg for the femoral, arm for the subclavian or try for the carotid in the neck?

The body was a that of a young person which was being repatriated back home, so all three sites would be good, but brave me decided to go for the neck. I sometimes wish I hadn't! Small incision barely 1cm long, I looked and probed with my aneurysm hooks separating tissue in search for that elusive artery. I knew it was there but with him looking over my shoulder, could I find it. Then when I found it, could I get the hook around it and retrieve it without nicking the vein, I got there in the end much to my relief.

In goes the fluid at just under 4lbs pressure but with the valve only half open letting the fluid enter slowly. I mixed and changed the fluids for this body but there was no accessory fluids such as calsec, or even meta-flow or permaflow which would help break down the clots to ensure a full circulation of embalming all around the body. I creamed the face, massaged the hands and legs and pleased that the arteries were rising and the hard dry purple fingertips were showing signs of natural pre death looks.

For long term embalming, one has decisions to think over. Should I inject another bottle to ensure that the body keeps as it will be a long time until the funeral. Or is it enough fluid already in and too much might make the body turn grey and ruin all that you have tried to achieve, decisions that I pondered over and stopped at four 80oz jars and a good drainage with the aid of the trocar.

Body washed, dressed and placed in the coffin, hair combed. She was looking good and natural, I was pleased that I had not distorted the features and that her family could take solace in that she looked asleep and at rest. I wanted to come back to view her before her family came the next day as often is the case that the body would improve further, much to my relief this was the case, her colour in the face and hands was natural. The family were also pleased and happy from what they compared her to when she had just died.

I flew back on a high note of content, but faced a problem in the mortuary. We were busy all that past week with bodies and no where to place them. One body went into the freezer with the intent of taking him out the night before to thaw and ready for his post mortem next day. That was the problem, so many bodies and it was only when I was in my room watching Holby City on the TV.

Oops, Mr big is still in the freezer. With thoughts rushing through my brain thinking should we do a post mortem on another body and let him thaw for the day after? Just as I was thinking all sorts, my phone went off, "Mr big is still in the freezer" said the other technician... she was panicking and I was scratching my head thinking.

I needed to go back into work and take him out, porters were called at first and they said he was stuck. I opened the fridge doors from the pm room side and started to pull the tray out. Yep, problem. He went in al right but his arms had fallen down and now frozen, he was stuck and no intention of coming out. I muttered, talked and scratched my head, yanked the tray from side to side and tried tilting it while pulling. You try this with a 26 stone body and you will also mutter with strange noises.

Ah with time (now 01.30hrs) and pulling and tilting, I managed to extract the body from freezer and placed safely onto the post mortem table for thawing ready to start later on in the day.

His post mortem went to plan and was released to the family later in the afternoon.

All that week, three to four post mortems each and every day and mortuary full.

The week after and where's all the bodies? Deaths stopped, bodies all signed up so no post mortems required and by the end of the week, an empty mortuary.

The new girl was starting the week after and so I finished working here. It was a delight to have worked there, Pathologists all friendly and helpful, the town was that of an old medieval one and still retained its historical looks. Cannon balls from the English civil war were still to be seen in some of the walls where they struck all those years back.

Sadly back to finance. As I was finishing this job, I was talking to some of my colleagues back home. These guys have been working in the mortuary since 1978. All through the troubles and dealing with decomposing bodies, murders, suicides, road traffic accidents along with all the Hospital deaths and natural cases from within the wider community.

With changes to our pay scales and grades and now with the changes to working practices in Northern Ireland. Management were now trying to regrade these mortuary staff from a meagre band five down to band three! When I heard that, I said "but that is a trainee grade" I know came the reply in a demoralise tone

Its a sad case when we tread along one's journey in work and life, some people are not recognised for their skills and dedication to this vocation. That management are more interested in savings and shortcuts. Sad!

o0o