16 November 2027
Tuesday. Pair tonight came in on a gift voucher. Birthday present from a mutual friend.
I asked them what sort of a friend gives you a coffin for your birthday. They said the best sort, the sort who knows you. I thought about it on my rounds and I reckon they’re right. Anybody can give socks.
It has to be for two, mind. Plots come in pairs. So whoever you give it to has to bring one other grown-up, both eighteen or over, and both game for an hour underground. Worth checking before you wrap it.
They came out of the ground laughing so hard one of them had to sit on my barrow. Said it was the best present he’d ever had. I said I’d heard that before. I have. Every year.
Tally: plots disturbed, two. Birthdays, one. Barrows sat on, one. Tuppence objected.
— H., groundskeeper
