Drew Baxter - Celebrant.

06/05/2026

It’s hard not to just say ‘hello’.
Enjoy Wednesday.

05/05/2026

https://www.buzzsprout.com/2607211/episodes/19120140

Chapter One In this opening chapter, Drew reflects on the stories we tell… and the way they shape how we remember.From childhood memories of being read to and listening in wonder… to the fragments of lives shared in his work as a celebrant, t...

04/05/2026

For those who might like to listen. I’ll post a full link tomorrow. If you’d like to follow the new page then that would be nice too.

At 9am tomorrow morning the first chapter of the podcast will be available.

If you do find the time to listen - I do hope you'll enjoy it.

29/04/2026

I think maybe this post is misleading in that I’m not going now - but I’m on the path towards the door marked ‘exit’. I still very much appreciate the kind words and wishes.

29/04/2026

Hello…and welcome to Wednesday.

And so here we are.

This one might be the last for a while.

Not because I’ve nothing left to say…but perhaps because I’ve said enough.

Over the years, these little Wednesday Wisdom posts have never really been about advice…or wisdom!

I hope they haven't always come across as me telling other people how to live their lives.

Well, maybe occasionally, like when I beg for an outbreak of kindness…

They’ve mostly been… observations of life.

Things noticed.
Moments shared.

The odd thought that arrived uninvited in the middle of the night… as you're visiting the toilet for the umpteenth time.

Some have been humorous...hopefully.

Some a little heavier. Like me.

Most, somewhere in between.

But alway written with the hope that they might feel familiar to someone else.

Written to remind everyone that you're not alone.

I’ve been thinking about what stays. What we leave behind.

Because when you do think about stepping back from something you realise very quickly that it isn’t the number of social media posts, or the words themselves that matter.

It’s the moments behind them. The inspiration.

And very often that was you lot. My loyal gang of followers.

The conversations we had over the years.
The quiet acknowledgements you send me.

The messages that simply said, “I understand that.”

Those are the things that stay with me.

And the truth is…

you can’t cancel the past experience of what you’ve seen.

You carry it with you.

The good.
The difficult.
The unexpected.

All of it… part of the same story.

Our story.

So; this isn’t really a full stop.

Just a gentle pause.
It might be quite a long pause, but at some point I'll go on a cruise and then you'll want a full report won't you?

It is time though, a moment to step away from the page…from Wednesday and from wisdom.

Step back into the day-to-day business of living life with renewed purpose.

To enjoy that life, to be creative and to share the making of memories with the people I really care about.

I’ll still be noticing things but without needing to write them down for you on a Wednesday.

Maybe I’ll actually learn how to sit a while… without feeling the need to fill the silence.

Thank you… for reading.

For responding.

For being part of it.

For letting these daft thoughts find a home in your heart.

For now though…take care of yourselves…

and of each other.

That’s usually a good place to start.

If you get withdrawal symptoms you could try listening to the podcast when it starts.

I’ll post a link here when the first one goes live…next Tuesday.

You see, I may stop bothering you here…but I’ll never stop being a bother.

One closing thought, a final pearl of wisdom.

Not every problem has a solution...but quite a few can be improved with Lurpak...and the rest?

Well, that's what sherry is for.

Just the one of course...just the one.

22/04/2026

Welcome to Wednesday

The penultimate time that I’ll be bothering you in this way, for the foreseeable future.

The podcast beckons and more on that later.

Let me start by saying that yesterday I had a very difficult funeral, especially difficult for the family of a little boy. It was Star Wars themed…would you like to see some pictures and hear how brilliant I was?

Well if you do, you’ve come to the wrong place!

Picking up from last week - it is possible to do your job as a celebrant and not make a great splash about it on social media….said the man splashing on social media…

What a grumpy old git….it’s getting so hard to just keep plodding on,as my Padawan suggested we try and do..thank you Mark.

For some years, there’s been a running joke about my retirement.

I did try to retire once, it even got announced in The Chad; but you bu**ers kept demanding I kept coming out to play…so I stayed on a bit.

I’m actually glad that I did. Thank you for keeping me out of mischief.

This time I think it really has to happen.

Not overnight, and not even this year, but by next April it is my hope that I shall hang up my scruffy blue suit for the last time.

I’m not writing my obituary today, there are still families to help between now and then, but I need a way to reduce my work load and so I’m going to try very hard to only accept one service a week.

To make that easier I’m only going to be accepting work from those funeral directors who have been particularly supportive of my efforts these last 21 years.

I think their loyalty to me deserves to be acknowledged and respected.

I’m not publicly disclosing who is on the list of companies I’ll continue to work with, that’s a little too Machiavellian even for me. I have spoken to most of them…and as for the rest…well you never rang much anyway, so no loss.

Not that anyone owed me a phone call.

That’s another thing that bothers me about the celebrant landscape these days…that sense of entitlement.

I’ve done my training, now give me work!

How things have changed…I know, I’m like a stuck record…the good old days blah blah blah.

In truth, when I started, there were very few celebrants, so we worked for most companies in the area, but over the years more celebrants arrived, and many companies have turned to them, forging strong working relationships. This is another reason they won’t shed any tears about me leaving.

So what do I get by stepping back?
Freedom!

Reduced hours, reduced milage, reduced stress…that’s the hope.

Time for me and my other little projects, plus time for Mrs B, who I am hoping will also decide to finish work. No pressure.

Oh, by the way, to those of you who have written my name in your funeral plan…well, I’ll honour that request wherever possible - but only on the condition that I’m not dead.

So, how will I fill my time?

Maybe volunteering. I’d like to keep my association with the Bereavement Cafe. I’m sure I can find other worthy organisations to donate a few hours too.

I’ll have time to sit on benches and chat to strangers, that’ll cheer them up I’m sure.

Maybe I should start a guide to good funerals?

I’ll just attend as many as I can giving out reviews.
The Baxter Star could become as famous as the Michelin Star.
Or if I haven’t lost any more weight - the Michelin Man Star!

Maybe a new career beckons?

I quite like the idea of doing other people’s shopping in Tesco, so I can block aisles and run into people’s ankles. Oh what fun that would be. Plus you’d get discount sherry and Lurpak.

There’s walking the dog…good for the dog, and even better for me.

There are so many things I could do.

So many things I still want to achieve… and the thing is, I’m running out of time.

I’m not planning on popping my clogs anytime soon, but think about it, until the robbing bastards moved the goal posts, I’d have been drawing my state pension this year!

So that’s the plan. Riding into the sunset by the start of April 2027.

Now, what shall we talk about today?

Well, the podcast of course. My new baby.

It’ll be very simple. I’m editing it myself…finger crossed.

The premise, well, just me sharing stories and memories from my life.

Offering a quiet and welcoming space in midst of everyone’s busy lives.

Just come in and sit a while and listen with Drew.

I’ll be coming in your ears, as the saying goes.

That quiet space is a space I often look for myself…a quiet time or a time underscored by gentle music…but time to notice the world and reflect on what we see happening around us.

It won’t be a political essay and it won’t even be pointing to the way I think you should feel about anything I share…it will be one man, his stories, and what he..what I, have discovered about myself. And life.

It’s the book that some of you have long been asking me to write, in audio form.

I have ten chapters ready to go, on subjects as broad as the three little pigs, my experiences in supermarkets, my late grandad and finding your place in the world.

I do hope you’ll listen when the time arrives.

That’s it for this week…if I have any wisdom for you then it’s simply this…

Make sure you take every opportunity to live…and write a good story for yourselves; and the people you care about.

I’ll be back next Wednesday; for the last time….

Signed - The Grumpy Old Git

15/04/2026

Welcome to Wednesday

Not many more to go now…well, there will be plenty of Wednesdays, just none cluttered with my drivel.

It’s probably a good time to step away, as it’s getting harder and harder for me to hold my tongue, as I watch so many things that I cherish, being undermined.

Oh here he goes again, having a crack at other celebrants…the younger shinier, sparklier gang that are doing so well.
He doesn’t like it you know.

Actually I wish them all well: it’s not an easy row to hoe, and to choose it hopefully means something in your character wants to give to others, and support them at difficult times.

And you all do it in your own way. More power to your elbows.

I’ll be gone from the field one day, and as the old warhorse goes to the knackers yard, the young stallions and fillies will fill the tiny void I leave…well not that tiny exactly.

The old cart horse, actually - not war horse.

Reminds me of Albert…a character I played in The Wind in the Willows…a lugubrious, world weary old nag from the Black Country…oh my god, I’ve become Albert - minus the accent.

Yes, I’ll be the first to admit I’m becoming grumpier as I get older.

I try to project the image of the affable old buffoon, bumbling along in his scruffy blue suit, but inside I’m churning in a toxic mix of sadness, anger, frustration and regret.

I love this work that I do, but it feels like I’m watching many of the values I’ve tried to uphold these last 21 years, becoming almost obsolete and irrelevant; to some.

I’ve always maintained, and will say it loud and clear again today, I’m not the best celebrant.

People may have put me on a pedestal that I don’t deserve; godfather of celebrants and Jedi master of funerals… but in my heart I know that I’m just me.

I’m pretty good at doing what I do: that is my ceremonies, my way.

I have no doubt and the continued hope, that there are many brilliant celebrants out there, serving families in the most amazing and supportive manner.

I could name you, but you know who you are…

….no, not you!

You can sod off…

….but you and you and you, you’re lovely people.

My problem isn’t just about the standard of the service that’s on offer, although I do hear stories, but as I often don’t see the work, how can I judge?

How can I explain what’s going wrong…in my view?

Let me try this.

There’s a curious thing about the lives we lead today, in this modern world filled with technological advancements and wonders.

We see more of the world, and of life, than we ever used to.

Even now I’m adding to this problem in a way. A Facebook post here, a podcast there…will he never shut up!

It’s like riding a merry go round, with the sharing of moments online.

Round and round we go every day, filling our social media feeds with all sorts of information.

Funny cats, plates of food, complaints about bins…and then there’s the more personal stuff.

Stories told in passing.

Fragments of people’s lives, offered up for the world to witness.

Everything is public…or so it seems.

I would suggest that at a very basic level, the job of a celebrant is to be a storyteller. A story we are gifted, that we are allowed to share within certain limits - limits designed in consultation with the family.

We might get to hear a lot more of the story than we can tell, for a variety of reasons.

So, as a celebrant, we might see even more of life than most — not just the public moments, but the private ones.

The stories shared across a kitchen table.
Things said in that moment that don’t make your note book, the times when the pen goes down, and you just listen.

These stories and moments inform what you can do, but the detail will never be shared.

There are also events that unfold before you; perhaps when you’re the only person left in a room to bear witness, and it’s something truly personal and private.

It’s a privilege, being trusted with those things; with those moments.

A quiet understanding that what is shared, is shared only with you, not for everyone.

A bond of trust. A contract of dignity. Often unspoken.

And I think that matters. I think it matters a lot!

Above all else, as a celebrant, that trust that is placed in us, should never be abused.

Just because we see something doesn’t mean it belongs to us.

Just because we hear something doesn’t mean it’s ours to repeat.

There’s a difference between witnessing a moment, and owning it.

Between hearing and understanding a story, and sharing it.

Some of the most important parts of a person’s life might be things that should never be posted, retold, or reshaped for a few ‘likes’.

They are the things that are held discreetly, carried carefully.

And when, and if, the time comes, they are spoken only where they truly belong.

In my work, and now in the stories I’m planning to tell in the podcast, I’m always aware of that line.

The balance between sharing something meaningful, and protecting what was never mine to give away.

Because, and I repeat myself I know, but with good reason, not everything we see and hear is ours to share.

We notice it, we register it, we process it and we store it…but there it stays.

And perhaps part of that trust, which we are gifted, is rooted in that unspoken contract that we know what to keep quiet, and what to share.

It’s an almost sacred responsibility… and it’s one worth carrying thoughtfully and well.

It’s one I believe that is slipping away.

My fear is, that in a world where we can post about anything, without thought and without pause, we never stop to think…actually, is this mine to share?

Privacy is under attack. I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say so.

When private moments, things that we are privileged to have shared in, become the next thing we post about on social media…we risk losing forever the most precious aspect of a celebrants role.

That we can be told anything, and that we can be trusted, implicitly, to know what to do with it.

And sometimes, what we do… is nothing.

I can’t resist using a Star Trek quote because resistance is futile…

oh, no that’s not the quote, well it is a quote but not the one I wanted to share…let’s try that again.

I can’t resist using a Star Trek quote: "Just because we can do a thing, it does not necessarily follow that we must do that thing”.

Before you hit the share button for your next Facebook post….hesitate and ask yourself a question.

Do I really need to share this? And more importantly, do I have the right to share it?

Does that make sense?

Or is this a case of me being a miserable old bu**er who thinks only he knows what’s best?

I guess you’ll decide for yourselves and act accordingly.

My race is almost run on a Wednesday morning, so maybe you’ll join me on Tuesdays for the podcast when it launches?

You can check my work and hold me to the high standards I’m trying to promulgate with this post today.

The podcast launches on May 5th, so we have just two more Wednesday’s together.

You’ll be fine. Trust me.

08/04/2026

Welcome to Wednesday

This week, I would like to tell you about two moments which really brought a lump to my throat.

I do get very emotional sometimes…I even sat and cried with a family on a recent visit…not very professional you might think.

Anyway, the first thing that brought a small tear to my eye was receiving a letter.

Across these 21 years working as a celebrant, I have been so lucky to receive some lovely thank you cards, text messages and phone calls…but this last week, as I say, it was a letter.

A proper letter.
A handwritten note, on neatly folded white paper.

I won’t share the contents other than to say it was kind, generous and very thoughtful.

The sort of letter you don’t expect… but having read it, you feel very thankful.

And I sat with those feelings for a while.

Because those words weren’t written for show.
They were written because someone felt something… and wanted me to know.

There was something warm and reassuring about it, as if it were a gesture from a different age; one where the civilities of life had not been forgotten

It’s in moments like that where we discover kindness isn’t a lost art.

The second moment came in conversation.

It was after a service, and a gentleman stopped as left the chapel and placed his hand on my shoulder. He stood looking me squarely in the eyes and said...

“Thank you for not being professional”.

Now… that might sound like a criticism; and for a second I wasn’t sure what I should say, but then his face soften with a smile and he continued…

“I attend so many funerals these days, all my friends are leaving, and so I’ve seen many celebrants and I have to say most of them are really very professional”.

I still wasn’t entirely sure where this was leading so I sort of nodded…and he then expanded his thoughts.

It would seem for this gentleman, professional meant what he had seen was lacking in some way…distant, scripted, rigid, very much just someone neatly ticking all the boxes on their ‘professional celebrant’ checklist.

“You didn’t do that…you were human”.

Of course we’ve now stepped into that minefield where I rarely tread…the self congratulatory, look how special I am arena.

Yes of course it’s nice to be appreciated and whilst I don’t always share every positive comment I receive, I’m not going to wave this comment, and that letter away, with mock humility.

21 years experience counts for something, but so do the innate skills all of us can bring to the table when dealing with other human beings.

The process of being a celebrant is important, but I’m really pleased that the old fat fella in the scruffy blue suit is occasionally seen as something more than the process.

I’ve thought about those two moments quite a lot.

Because somewhere between them… is the balance.

We’re told, aren’t we, to be professional.
To keep a distance.
To present ourselves properly.

But in the moments that really matter…
people don’t need perfection.

They need presence.

They need warmth.
They need someone who isn’t hiding behind the role.

So perhaps…just occasionally…
it’s alright not to be too professional.

To be kind.
To be real.
To be vulnerable.
To let people see you… as well as hear you.

Because at the end of the day, it won’t be the polished words that stay with people. It will be how you made them feel.

That’s enough blowing smoke up my own backside, let me draw your attention to another venture, which, alongside the podcast, is about reminding people about their humanity…and having some fun.

It’s called Exploring The Drew-niverse.

I’ll post a link later if you’re interested, allowing you to pop along and hopefully it might reinforce how unprofessional I am.

Have a good week.

01/04/2026

Wednesday Wisdom…

I’ve got a broken tooth. Thank goodness it's not my wisdom tooth.

No drama… no heroic story… no dramatic fall down a flight of stairs like Crystal Carrington in Dynasty.

No bar-room brawl, as I take on a gang of burly bikers who have knocked my sherry out of my hand.

It’s just… broken.

I’m not even entirely sure when or how it happened.

But what I do know is this…

My tongue won’t leave it alone.

It keeps going back to it.
Checking it.
Prodding it.
Exploring it, like it’s discovered something fascinating.

Which, in a way… it has.

And it made me smile this morning, because we do that, don’t we?

Not just with teeth; but with the rough edges in life.
The things that aren’t quite right.
The little breaks and cracks we’d probably be better off leaving alone.

But no… we go back.
We revisit.
We prod.
We test the edges, again and again.

Sometimes out of curiosity…
Sometimes out of habit…
Sometimes because, oddly, there’s a strange comfort in knowing it’s still there.

And sometimes…because part of us is still trying to understand what changed.

Grief can be like that.

Not always loud or overwhelming…just a quiet returning to the place that feels different now.

A checking in; a remembering; a gentle “is it still like this?”

And that’s alright.

Because some things aren’t meant to be left behind too quickly.
Some things need to be visited… a little… and often.

But maybe not all the time.

Maybe, now and then, we can give ourselves a small rest from it.

Let the tongue be still…just for a while.

Even if it wanders back later… as it probably will.

(Though I suspect mine hasn’t quite got that memo yet.)

If you wish to gently explore the rough edges of your grief, you’ll be very welcome at our next Bereavement Cafe on Tuesday 7th April - we had to move to Tuesday as it’s the Easter weekend.

I wonder if we might have hot cross buns? If so I’ll bring the Lurpak.

Now a quick update on the podcast, which seems to have been received as a good idea…well, I’m still quietly beavering away and it’s taking shape.

Nothing grand, just some stories I hope you think are worth sharing…

I’ll keep you updated but I hope you like the title…Big Skies and Small Ponds.
It gives me the cover to talk about so many aspects of life…from the big, to the not so big but equally important.

Anyway…time will tell…

Have a gentle Wednesday.
And look after your teeth!

PS - It’s April Fool’s Day, but I decided to be one of the very few people who isn’t going to try and trick you with some stupid joke. That’s probably one of the reasons I’m being granted the freedom of Mansfield.

Apparently I can now herd geese through Primark and have my choice of any single virgins….over the age of 65.

26/03/2026

Coming soon…hopefully

25/03/2026

Hello…

Welcome to Wednesday.

There’s a catchphrase, of sorts, which gets thrown around a lot in our house…by me…especially on a Sunday…

“I’m doing it all”

Because there are times when it feels like that’s the case.
I’m sure you have days like that..

This week, my Sunday unfolded into such a day.

Get the beef in the slow cooker. Celery, carrots, beef stock…done.

Make breakfast…scramble some eggs, sauté the mushrooms, confit some tomatoes, and don’t forget the bacon. Done.
Delicious.

Unload the dishwasher: (never ‘load the dishwasher’, as apparently I can’t do it properly).

Take the dog for a walk. That was the dog’s idea…not mine.

Cut the lawn.

W**d the borders.

Remove a bush…Mrs B and I heaving together managed that task.

Help reorganise the shed…I wasn’t much help.

So many jobs…so little enthusiasm…

Of course there are plenty of other jobs that need doing.
These are on Mrs B’s list.
Jobs which are invisible to my eyes, until she points them out.

When it comes to doing jobs, I have a system.
I’m think I’m very organised…my diary has become my very best friend to make sure my workload is organised correctly.

Then I have checklists. Which I occasionally remember to check.

I also have a mental checklist. Which I forget all the time.

Which, at my age, and in my current state of mild bewilderment, is to be expected.

NB - a mental checklist isn’t worth the paper it’s not written on.

Things come to mind…
then wander off again…often just as I’m about to do them.

Why did I come in this room?
What were we talking about?
Did I switch the slow cooker on?

And yet, to the amazement of many, not least myself, things get done.

Not always the right things.
Not always at the right time.
Not always quickly enough for some people.

But things, nonetheless, are achieved.

Of course I’m always more relaxed when I’m doing it all, when there is music playing. It helps me multitask.

I can peel spuds and sing along to Ella Fitzgerald.

I can open the sherry bottle and sing along to Barry Manilow (that’s for you Yvette).

I can mash the potatoes, with a big k**b of Lurpak, whilst singing along to Nat King Cole.

And yet, there’s always one more job…

This week's nugget of wisdom approaching.

I’m going to let you into a big secret about life…and death.

Whenever the time comes and we shuffle off this mortal coil…we’ll all leave jobs that need doing.

There’s even a poem we sometimes read at funerals which acknowledges this:
I could not stay another day,
To love, to laugh, to work or play;
Tasks left undone must stay that way.

Here’s an extra bit of wisdom - if and when you pop your clogs, and some brilliant celebrant, like myself, is standing there talking about your life, I won’t be listing all the jobs you left undone.

Maybe a few of the things you got done will sum up your life, and character, better than the dishwasher not being loaded.

OK - that was going to be all I had to offer today but I have some news.

Wednesday Wisdom may well be ready to give up the ghost.

For some years people have been asking me to write a book…so I’ve started.

The only thing is it’s going to be an audio book - disguised as a podcast.

Little chapters from my life, reflections on what I’ve seen and tried to understand about it all.

I decided to record it because I love the sound of my own voice, almost as much as you do.

So, are you OK with this?

Would you listen to this old fool rambling on about life?

And do remember I have two cruises booked this year so that’s loads of good material…

Please feel free to comment and I promise to read them all, and ignore the ones I don’t agree with.

I’m hoping I’ll be ready to launch in May. And it will be a Tuesday not a Wednesday.

Between now and then I’ll keep bringing you these Wednesday posts…

Now bu**er off and get some jobs done.