The Victorians knew how to mourn. Black crepe draped over doorways. Professional mourners hired to weep convincingly. Horses with black plumes pulling elaborate glass hearses. Widows in mourning dress for years—sometimes decades. The whole performance cost a fortune, naturally. That was rather the point.
We’ve inherited their funeral script almost unchanged. The hearse. The procession. The expensive coffin nobody sees for more than an hour. The crematorium booking with its 45-minute time limit. It’s theatre from another century, performed for reasons most of us can’t articulate beyond “it’s what you do.” But something’s shifting. One in five UK funerals is now a direct cremation—a quiet cremation without ceremony, costing a fraction of traditional funerals. NewRest Funerals specialises in this straightforward approach, available 24/7 on 0800 111 4971. We’re witnessing the biggest change in British funeral culture since the Victorians invented most of these traditions in the first place.
Here’s how we got here—and where we’re going.
The Victorian Funeral Industry: Inventing Tradition for Profit
Before the 1800s, funerals were relatively simple affairs. The body was washed by family members, laid out at home, buried in the churchyard. Local carpenters made coffins. The vicar presided. Costs were minimal because most of the work was done by the community.
Then came the Victorians with their peculiar genius for commercialising sentiment.
The funeral industry as we know it emerged in the mid-1800s, driven partly by public health concerns—cholera epidemics made quick burial necessary—and partly by the rising middle class desperate to signal respectability. Funeral directors appeared, professionalising what had been informal community work. They offered services nobody knew they needed: embalming, elaborate coffins, horse-drawn hearses, mourning dress rental.
Queen Victoria herself set the tone. After Prince Albert died in 1861, she remained in mourning for forty years. The entire nation followed suit—or at least pretended to. Mourning became a social requirement with rigid rules about dress, behaviour, and expenditure.
The more you spent, the more you cared. Or at least that’s what the funeral industry wanted people to believe.
Coffins became ornate. Oak, mahogany, brass handles, silk lining. The body was embalmed—a practice borrowed from American Civil War battlefield preservation techniques—despite Britain’s cool climate making it entirely unnecessary. Viewing the body became standard, requiring professional preparation.
The funeral procession turned theatrical. Black horses with ostrich plumes. Glass-sided hearses so the expensive coffin could be admired. Professional mutes—paid mourners who stood silently looking sorrowful. The more elaborate the procession, the more respectable the family.
It was brilliant marketing. The funeral industry had created traditions that felt ancient but were actually recent commercial innovations. And they’d tied those traditions to love, respect, and social standing—making them almost impossible to refuse without seeming callous or cheap.
We’re still paying for Victoria’s grief 160 years later.
Post-War Simplicity: Cremation Becomes Respectable
The First World War changed British attitudes towards death. Mass casualties—over 700,000 British soldiers killed—made elaborate Victorian mourning feel absurd. There were too many dead. Too much grief. The old rituals couldn’t contain it.
Cremation, legalised in 1902 but initially viewed as scandalous, began gaining acceptance. It was practical. Space-efficient. Less expensive than burial. Veterans’ families, dealing with bodies returned from France or simply with no body at all, found cremation less distressing than the Victorian burial ritual.
By 1950, cremation accounted for 30% of UK funerals. By 1970, it was 50%. Now it’s 78%—one of the highest rates in the world.
But here’s the catch: cremation became acceptable by mimicking burial. The funeral service remained essentially unchanged. Same hearse. Same procession. Same expensive coffin, even though it was about to be incinerated. Crematoriums were built to look like chapels. The coffin still disappeared behind curtains or descended through the floor in a moment of theatrical finality.
The funeral industry had successfully defended its business model. Cremation was allowed—but only if you paid for all the traditional trappings first.
Costs remained high. The average funeral in the 1960s cost about £70—roughly £1,500 in today’s money. Expensive, but manageable for most families. The post-war generation accepted this. They’d lived through rationing and hardship. Spending on a “proper” funeral felt like a mark of returning prosperity.
Their children—the Boomers—followed suit. Funeral costs climbed steadily through the 1970s and 80s, but the basic formula remained unchanged. Death happened. Funeral director was called. Arrangements were made according to a script everyone knew. Nobody questioned it much.
Then came the price explosion.
The 2000s: Costs Spiral, Families Struggle
Something changed in the early 2000s. Funeral costs began rising far faster than inflation. Between 2004 and 2017, the average funeral cost increased by 122%—while inflation rose just 43%. By 2024, the average UK funeral costs £4,141. Add in the wake, flowers, memorial, and you’re easily past £9,000.
What happened?
Consolidation, mainly. Large funeral conglomerates bought up small independent funeral directors, creating effective regional monopolies. Dignity PLC and Co-op Funeralcare between them control over a third of the UK funeral market. With less competition, prices rose.
The industry also became expert at upselling. Families in grief were presented with coffin catalogues—budget pine at £300, mid-range oak at £800, premium mahogany at £2,500. Which one shows you really cared? Limousines went from optional to expected. Funeral directors’ “professional fees” doubled, covering vague services like “arrangement and conduct.”
Embalming—medically unnecessary in the UK—was offered as standard at £150. Many families didn’t realise they could refuse. Viewing the body became routine, requiring embalming which required the fee.
The 2008 financial crisis hit families hard, but funeral costs kept climbing. For many, funerals became a genuine financial burden. Stories emerged of families going into debt to bury their parents. Funeral poverty became a recognised social problem.
The Competition and Markets Authority investigated in 2018, finding widespread evidence of price manipulation and lack of transparency. Funeral directors rarely displayed prices. Comparison shopping was difficult. Families in grief were easy targets.
And yet the traditional funeral persisted. Partly inertia—it’s what you do. Partly guilt—anything less feels disrespectful. Partly social pressure—what would the relatives think?
But resistance was building.
The 2010s: Direct Cremation Emerges
Direct cremation had technically always been possible, but funeral directors rarely mentioned it. Why would they? It eliminated 70% of their revenue.
The model is simple: the deceased is collected, cared for, and cremated without ceremony. No viewing. No service with the body present. No hearse procession. No expensive coffin. Ashes are returned to the family within two weeks. Cost: £995-£1,695.
It’s not a new concept. Similar practices existed in other countries. But in Britain, it was essentially invisible until the mid-2010s.
Then came the internet.
Families started researching funeral options online instead of just accepting whatever the local funeral director offered. They discovered direct cremation. They saw the price difference. They realised the expensive coffin would be burned unseen. They questioned why they needed limousines to drive empty roads to a crematorium nobody wanted to visit.
Specialist direct cremation providers launched—companies like Simplicity Cremations, Pure Cremation, and others—offering transparent pricing and simple processes. No hard sell. No guilt trips. Just straightforward disposal of remains at a fraction of traditional costs.
The funeral establishment reacted with horror and condescension. Direct cremation was dismissed as undignified, disrespectful, a sign of broken families who couldn’t be bothered to honour their dead properly.
But families choosing it told different stories. They spoke of relief—at avoiding the stressful performance of a traditional funeral while grieving. Of gratitude—that thousands of pounds stayed in the family instead of going to funeral directors. Of authenticity—holding memorial services weeks later in meaningful locations, planned properly, without the tyranny of the crematorium’s 45-minute slot.
By 2019, direct cremation accounted for 10% of UK funerals. Funeral directors who’d dismissed it as a fringe option started offering it themselves—reluctantly, usually buried deep on their websites, but they offered it.
The dam had broken.
2020: The Pandemic Accelerates Everything
Then COVID-19 hit and accidentally proved the point about traditional funerals.
Suddenly, the elaborate Victorian funeral became impossible. Crematoriums allowed ten mourners maximum. Churches closed. Wakes were banned. Families couldn’t view bodies. The traditional funeral was stripped down to its bare essentials by law.
And something surprising happened: people coped.
Many families found that smaller, simpler funerals actually worked better. Less stressful to organise. More intimate. Less performative. The absence of distant relatives who felt obligated to attend removed social pressure. The people who genuinely cared were there; the rest stayed away.
Direct cremation, which had seemed radical in 2019, suddenly looked sensible. If you couldn’t have a proper funeral anyway, why pay £4,000 for a ceremony ten people would attend? Why not cremate quietly and hold a proper memorial later when restrictions lifted?
Direct cremation numbers surged. By 2021, it accounted for 18% of UK funerals. By 2024, it’s over 20%—one in five.
The pandemic had accidentally run an experiment: can British funerals work without Victorian theatre? The answer, for many families, was yes.
Funeral directors scrambled to adapt. Those who’d resisted offering direct cremation now prominently advertised it. Prices became more transparent—the CMA had mandated price displays in 2021, but the pandemic accelerated actual transparency. Families discovered they had choices.
The traditional funeral lobby fought back with emotional appeals. Articles appeared warning that direct cremation would lead to “conveyor belt” treatment of the dead, that families would regret not having a “proper” goodbye, that society was losing respect for death.
But the families choosing it disagreed. They weren’t disrespecting their dead—they were rejecting an expensive performance that benefited funeral directors more than mourners.
Where We Are Now: Modern Funerals for Modern Families
We’re living through the biggest shift in British funeral culture since the Victorians invented most of these traditions. The change isn’t just about direct cremation—it’s about fundamentally rethinking what funerals are for.
The traditional model said: funerals happen immediately after death, follow a set script, involve the body, occur in formal settings, and cost thousands. That’s just how it’s done.
The emerging model says: separate the practical disposal of remains from the emotional work of mourning. The cremation happens quietly. The memorial happens later—when you’re ready, where it matters, how you want it.
This isn’t about cheapness, though cost matters to most families. It’s about authenticity. About creating farewells that feel genuine rather than following a script written for Victorian social climbing.
Some families hold memorial services in pubs their dad loved. Others scatter ashes on beaches, mountains, football grounds. Some plant trees. Others keep the ashes at home for years while they process grief in their own time. There’s no rush. No social pressure. No funeral director hovering.
The money saved—typically £2,500-£3,500—goes towards things that actually help the bereaved. Paying off the deceased’s debts. Supporting a surviving spouse. Taking time off work to grieve properly instead of rushing back because the funeral wiped out savings.
Religious communities are adapting too. Most religions have discovered their traditions are more flexible than assumed. The Catholic Church permits cremation. Protestant denominations have always been relaxed about it. Hindu and Sikh traditions prefer cremation anyway. Even Jewish communities, traditionally requiring burial, are seeing Reform and Liberal congregations accept cremation.
What matters—the religious consensus suggests—is treating the dead with respect and supporting the living through grief. Neither requires a £5,000 funeral.
The funeral industry is fighting a rearguard action. Trade publications warn of a “race to the bottom” on pricing. Industry conferences discuss how to “add value” to justify traditional costs. Some funeral directors refuse to offer direct cremation, insisting that families need the full service.
But market forces are grinding. When one funeral director charges £4,000 and another charges £1,295 for essentially the same end result, customers notice. Especially when those customers are researching online, reading reviews, comparing prices—things people rarely did a decade ago.
Transparency is the funeral industry’s nightmare. Once families understand what they’re actually paying for—and realise how much is pure theatre—the traditional model becomes harder to defend.
What Comes Next: The Future of British Funerals
Predicting cultural shifts is risky, but the trajectory seems clear.
Direct cremation will likely continue growing—probably stabilising around 30-40% of UK funerals over the next decade. It won’t replace traditional funerals entirely. Some families will always want the structure and ritual of a conventional service. Others have religious requirements. Some simply prefer tradition.
But the days when 90% of families followed the same expensive script are over.
We’ll likely see more personalisation. Memorial services that reflect actual lives rather than following funeral templates. Celebrations of life rather than sombre ceremonies. Creative ways of handling ashes—though hopefully fewer will be turned into vinyl records or fireworks, because good grief, some trends should die quickly.
Green burial will grow—natural burial grounds, biodegradable coffins, woodland rather than gravestones. The environmental impact of traditional funerals is becoming harder to ignore. Cremation releases CO2 and mercury. Burial uses land and embalming chemicals. Neither is particularly sustainable.
Newer options like water cremation (alkaline hydrolysis) and human composting are gaining legal approval in some countries. Britain tends to follow these trends eventually, though slowly. Give it a decade.
Technology will play a role—virtual attendance at funerals became normal during COVID and will probably persist. Memorial websites replace order-of-service booklets. Digital archives replace photo boards. Some of this feels cold, but some of it’s genuinely useful for scattered families.
Pre-planning will become more common. About 40% of direct cremations are now pre-paid plans—people arranging their own funerals in advance, locking in prices, sparing their families the stress of decision-making while grieving. This is sensible household planning, not morbid obsession.
The funeral industry will adapt or die. Those who cling to Victorian pricing and practices will lose market share to transparent, affordable providers. Some will rebrand as “memorial planners” or “celebration of life coordinators”—anything to escape the funeral director stereotype.
We might even see the return of community-led funerals—families handling more of the practical work themselves, as happened before the Victorians professionalised everything. The funeral industry won’t like this, but legally there’s nothing stopping it. You don’t need a funeral director. You never did.
What we’re witnessing is a correction. For 160 years, funerals have been dominated by commercial interests that convinced us their expensive services were necessary traditions. We’re finally realising they weren’t necessary and weren’t even particularly traditional.
The Victorians invented funeral theatre. We’re allowed to uninvent it.
The Real Conversation We’re Not Having
Beneath all this—the costs, the traditions, the direct cremation revolution—sits an uncomfortable truth: Britain still doesn’t know how to talk about death.
We’ve made funerals complicated and expensive partly because dealing with death itself is so difficult. The ritual fills the void. If you’re organising hearses and choosing coffins and coordinating flowers, you’re not sitting with the raw fact that someone you loved is gone forever.
Traditional funerals gave structure to grief. They told you what to do, how to behave, when to cry, when to move on. For some people, that structure is genuinely helpful.
But for others, it’s suffocating. The performance gets in the way of actual grief. You’re too busy being the chief mourner at a theatrical production to actually mourn.
Direct cremation doesn’t solve this. It removes the expensive theatre, but you’re still left with grief and a society that’s terrible at supporting it. You still need time off work—which many employers grudgingly give for the funeral itself but not for the months of grief that follow. You still need community support—which often evaporates after the casseroles stop arriving.
The real revolution won’t be how we dispose of bodies. It’ll be how we support the living through loss.
That means better bereavement leave. It means communities that check in months after the death, not just days. It means acknowledging that grief doesn’t follow timelines or stages or neat progressions towards “closure.”
It means recognising that the most expensive funeral doesn’t prove love, and the simplest cremation doesn’t prove indifference. What matters is how we care for each other while alive and how we support each other through loss.
The Victorians understood spectacle but they were terrible at actual emotional support—hence the rigid rules about mourning dress and behaviour instead of genuine care for the bereaved.
We’ve inherited their spectacle. We’re still working on the support.
Your grandmother won’t care what coffin you chose. Your father won’t know how many cars followed his hearse. They’re dead. The funeral is for the living—and the living deserve better than expensive theatre they can’t afford and don’t want.
The Victorians had their way of mourning. We’re allowed to have ours.
