AT 22-years-old, dying is not something I often think about.

I am of the age where I think I’m invincible, I’m naive and I certainly do not ‘plan for the future’.

That’s something that grown-ups do.

Nevertheless, early one Saturday morning I found myself making my way to Coates English Willow in Stoke St Gregory, Taunton, for a ‘make a willow coffin workshop’.

Yes, you did read that correctly – a coffin making workshop.

Now, I was thinking probably what you’re thinking right now: why on earth would you want to do that?

Somerset County Gazette:

County Gazette reporter Hollie Borland tries a coffin for size. 

But I checked it out so you don’t have to, although after reading this you may change your mind.

Apprehensively, I pushed open the workshop door and braced myself for the waves of grief that was inevitably about to anchor my mood to the sea-bed of despair.

“Hi there. Welcome to our made-to-measure coffin workshop.” T

here were just two people hard at work, weaving finer pieces of willow in and out of upright willow canes clamped to a table to form a solid, human length, two dimensional structure.

The lid. I was greeted by basket-maker Mike Hubbard of West Country Willow Craft, who grew up in Curry Mallet.

After seeking inspiration from his willow weaving grandfather, he underwent a five-year apprenticeship in Bridgwater and never looked back.

I was a taken aback by Mike’s bubbly voice and grinning face because like most people, I assume death must be treated with melancholy.

It was the death of his grandfather that caused him to make the transition from baskets to caskets.

“Making it for my grandfather just seemed like the right thing to do,” said Mike.

“Willow is such a beautiful wood and it was his life.

Somerset County Gazette:

WILLOW coffin making tutor Mike Hubbard. 

Making something like that for him wasn’t a chore, it wasn’t hard work, and it just felt right you know?”

And it did make sense.

“I’ve once had three brothers on a workshop making a coffin for their dad.

“They didn’t get on, but working together to make the coffin brought them together and they rekindled their friendship.

It was really nice to watch and a great laugh making it,” continued Mike.

It is a romantic notion that as they wove together an encompassing structure strong enough to support their father, once more their lives became intertwined.

My attention turned to the two hardworking coffin makers.

There was Lorna Bane, a paramedic from Bristol in her early thirties and an 81-year-old retired farmer Reg Bishop from Ilminster.

Ironically these were two people who were probably the most unfazed by death.

Lorna was making a coffin because she “had a few days off work” and she’d liked making a basket once.

“I’m not making it for anyone really,” she said, “but I chose these dimensions because it had to fit in my car so I could take it home.

“I might sell it, I don’t know. I haven’t told my parents yet but they’ll be so freaked out.

“I find the whole process therapeutic and it’s quite an achievement to make something as big as a coffin don’t you think?”

Somerset County Gazette:

LAURA Bane hard at work. 

A practical business venture if ever I saw one, what with the increasing popularity of the ecocoffin; a totally biodegrable, natural, and not to mention better looking, coffin The English Coates Willow shop sells around 25 a week to people who have travelled from all over the country to buy a piece of this underappreciated traditional craft.

Reg, a retired pastoral farmer, was making his own coffin. He had his wife measure him up for the occasion.

“If you buy a willow coffin they cost over £500 but this workshop cost me £300,” he explained in a thick West Country accent.

“I’m going to store it in my garage until I die.”

He had a bandage around one hand – this was day two of the workshop – but he was smiling.

The coffins the unlikely pair had produced were very professional and in no way ‘spooky’.

What is not to like about making your own coffin?

It’s practical, it’s cost effective and it’s personal. Mike, Lorna and Reg all had this fantastic ‘why not’ attitude to the whole bizarre process.

They weren’t scared of it nor did they think it was weird. “Death is just what happens,” said Reg.

You can’t argue with that.