| "...people seem to need permission to laugh as well as to weep, and this book encourages both" | | Foreword to 'The Motorcycle Hearse and Other Undertakings' |
This is just one of the stories from Ian Morris' vast repertoire, having worked as a full-time hospital Chaplain at Addenbrookes in Cambridge for 24 years. And after all this time, he has come to one or two conclusions, the first being that Cambridgeshire has a 100% mortality rate! And, in which case, why are we so dumbstruck in the face of death?
 | | For a dignified final ride! |
These musings, combined with his close association to death (in a good way!), has led Ian to write 'The Motorcycle Hearse and Other Undertakings' where he questions the amount of false mystery and unnecessary fear surrounding death. It's a tall order, to overcome the fear of death, but Ian has written down some of the stories he has lived through as a Chaplain doing his specialty - bereavement care. The book is at turns funny, harrowing, moving but above all; real. And Ian tells those stories just as well face to face; he had me in tears, in the studio.
Launching the book, Ian called in the style and panache of Motorcycle Funerals and the Reverend Paul Sinclair, who runs Britain's only motorcycle hearse outfit. Sitting pillion-happy behind Rev Sinclair, Ian launched his book, slap-bang in the middle of Cambridge amidst hoots of laughter and glee. Not, perhaps the sight you'd imagine to sits happily alongside death, but a welcome sight nevertheless!
 | | Death: a close-up view! |
Ian is a real character, but as an ex nurse with ten years experience in areas such as coronary care, I can assure you that the book he has written is really on the ball and the fun facade could mask the facts that this is also a very practical book for anyone who works in emergency care. According to the Medical Director of the East Anglian Ambulance Service, John Scott, it should 'become core reading'. The book will have a huge impact on anyone either working with or experiencing bereavement... and, next time you're at a funeral, or closer to death than you'd like; spare a smile, it goes a long way. | 
