At the Fuze Foundation, promoting Humanism is about more than explaining beliefs. It’s about sharing real human experiences. Humanist Celebrants hear extraordinary stories every day: moments of grief, love, humour, and connection that reveal what truly matters to people at the end of life.
“She Thought I Was a Humourist” is a short, reflective story inspired by Anne’s experiences as a Humanist Celebrant. While fictionalised and drawn from several real encounters, it captures something very true about Humanist ceremonies in Scotland – that compassion, dignity, and sometimes laughter can sit side by side, even in moments of loss.
This is not the story of one family, but a celebration of many. A reminder that Humanism is lived, not preached – and that telling stories is one of the most human things we do.
NB – This story is a work of fiction, inspired by several real-life experiences. It does not depict any one individual or family.
She Thought I Was a Humourist
Several years ago, I arrived early at the home of a colleague to talk about his father, who had recently died. I was there to gather notes and prepare a eulogy to be delivered at the crematorium the following week.
Only Jeannie, his mother, was home. The rest of the family hadn’t arrived yet, so it gave me a welcome chance to chat with her one to one. She was grieving the loss of her husband of over forty years, but she belonged to that stoical generation – calm, composed, and rarely emotional.
We talked a bit before the inevitable maelstrom of family arrived. These conversations can be tricky at the best of times: you’re trying to ask thoughtful questions, jot down details, and balance a cup of tea – all while fending off the family dog. In this case, a small terrier with rather… enthusiastic intentions toward my leg.
“Ach, he always does that to people he doesn’t know,” Jeannie laughed, as I attempted to prevent him mounting my left leg.
I placed my tea on a the table, opened my notebook, and began to explain what I was there to do once everyone else arrived. Before I could get far, she interrupted:
“My son said you’re ane o’ they humourists!” she announced proudly, in a thick Glasgow accent.
She went on, “My husband’s been to plenty of funerals these last few years, and he always said the humourists were the best. They tell a good story and make folk laugh. So I told my son, get me one o’ them!”
I froze for a second. She thought I was a comedian!
Luckily, I was saved by the front door bursting open and the arrival of the family – a noisy crowd filling the small living room. Chairs appeared as if by magic. Everyone talked at once, while Jock the terrier dashed around trying to decide which leg to pursue next. Someone finally rescued us all by locking him in another room.
I managed to get a bit of quiet and explained what I was there to do – to help create a Humanist service. Not everyone knew what that meant, so I shared what I always say, trying to keep it simple:
“Humanism isn’t a religion, it’s a way of living with compassion, equality, and respect for all – values that unite people, whatever their beliefs.”
They nodded. Their dad hadn’t been religious, but he had been a good man – kind, down-to-earth, always ready to help and always ready for a laugh. For the next two hours, the room was filled with laughter, tears, and stories. I scribbled notes furiously, doing my best to capture the warmth of this man they loved so much.
A week later, I delivered his ceremony. Afterwards, several people asked how long I’d known him, the best compliment a Celebrant can receive.
And Jeannie? She gave me a big hug and whispered “Archie would’ve loved it, it was funny, jist whit I wanted. You were amazing, hen.”
So maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe being a humourist isn’t such a bad thing after all.
Note: This is a fictional story based on true events. Names have been changed (apart from Jock!)
Next Steps – Get Tn Touch About Funeral Ceremonies
Stories like this remind us that at the heart of every funeral ceremony is a life (and a family) deserving of care, dignity, and understanding. Humanist ceremonies offer a way to remember someone honestly and meaningfully, without religious framework, while still allowing space for warmth, humour, reflection, and love.
Through the work of The Fuze Foundation and our colleagues at Fuze Ceremonies, we support families across Scotland to create funeral ceremonies that are inclusive, personal, and rooted in shared humanity – welcoming people of all beliefs and none.
If you are arranging a funeral and would like to speak to a Humanist Celebrant about creating a ceremony that truly reflects the person you are remembering, we would be very happy to hear from you.
Equally, if this story resonates and you’d like to learn more about our work or how we support others, please do get in touch.
About the Author
Anne Widdop founded the Fuze Foundation in 2012 and remains actively involved in promoting its work and values. A committed Humanist and experienced Celebrant, Anne believes deeply in compassion, equality, diversity, and freedom of expression.
Through her work, Anne has listened to hundreds of families as they share stories of the people they love:- stories filled with grief, warmth, humour, and humanity. She believes that telling these stories well is both a responsibility and a privilege, and that Humanist funeral ceremonies can offer comfort, honesty, and connection without dogma.
Anne supports the right of every individual to hold and practise their own beliefs. She believes a fair and healthy society depends on our ability to live and grieve alongside one another with mutual respect, even where our views differ.
