Several years ago I attended a country funeral. The July sun was as bold as brass that day and those who weren’t relatives or near neighbours stood in the shadow of the rowans that fringed the close. At last the prayers in the house were finished and the coffin was carried out and set on the backs of two chairs to rest there until the first “lift” to the hearse waiting up on the county road.
 Four sons of the dead woman were to lift the coffin, and as they handed their hard hats to other mourners and bent to slide their shoulders under the coffin, a man beside me, a schoolmaster, whispered ‘watch this’, and as the coffin was lifted I saw an old man [118] knock over one of the chairs with a dunch of his knee. It looked like clumsy old age. Then he pushed over the second chair.
 ‘What’s the idea of knocking the people’s furniture about?’
 ‘[He’s] “trimmlin’” the chairs; that’s to say, he’s making quite sure that the spirit of the departed hasn’t gone to roost while the corpse is on its way to the churchyard.’
 ‘Well, considering what we overheard through the parlour window either he or the clergyman has been misinformed.’
 ‘I don’t think the old man would see any contradiction there at all.’
 ‘You mean he really doesn’t believe in this “trimmlin” of his?’
 ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. I think it’s just become a friendly superstitious gesture. Of course the young fellows laugh at him and I’ve no doubt he would say it’s a lot of cod, too. But I’ve watched him at it, several times. Only it’s made to look like an accident now, whereas in the old days the chairs were solemnly upended ...’
 ‘How do you know that?’
 ”The old lady who’s now in her coffin told me about it. she was a walking wonder for old stories and beliefs.This “chair-trimmlin’” was a custom in her family, indeed among all the persuasioin who attend the church we’re going to this afternoon. I’ve never heard of it anywhere else, most certainly not in the parts I come from. But they had the “wake” there, with the wake-table, the drink, the baccy and the Lord-ha’-mercy pipes, and all the noise and ruction. I saw and heard it all when I was a kid. But around this locality nobody would ever dream of holding a wake for the dead.’
 ‘I’ve never been to one. Were they as rowdy as people say?’
 ‘Every bit.’
 ‘Why?’
 ‘It was the last wish of the departed -”a lively wake”. And the relatives gathered to see that the wish was carried out even if it killed them - as it often did.’
 ‘And how do you explain this townland custom of “trimmlin’” the chairs?’
 ‘I can’t. I wouldn’t even take my oath that it isn’t known in other parts of the country. At one time it might have been a widely practiced superstition that has disappeared except from corners like this. And remember, there are variants of it, like shrouding the mirror in death-room ... Look, if you just stand aside here we’ll join the end of the line. The vet promised us two seats up to the church ...’ [119; End extract.]