T he death of a loved one is one of the most difficult experiences in life, so it is hardly surprising that, especially in the past when life was more fragile than today, various rituals have been devised in an attempt to ease the situation, and so that people know what to expect to guide them through a funeral.

It has recently become customary to leave bunches of flowers at the site of a fatal accident. This echoes a custom of cutting cross shapes in stone or turf at the site of a death. There is a cross on the stone gate post at The Priory, Iffley, which commemorated the death of an undergraduate who was thrown from his horse, and another above the choir seats in the church, supposedly marking the death of a workman.

Many coffins were carried in walking funerals from the house to the church. There was a common superstition that if a coffin was carried over private land it created a right of way.

This led to problems for P A V Gunnington, who controlled the toll gate at Iffley on behalf of Lincoln College when Frederick Penfold drowned in the lock in 1948. The police offered to pay the fee to take the body through the toll gate, but Mr Gunnington refused to let them pass and made them carry the body over the wall and across private land, fearing that if he let them through the right to charge a toll ceased. He was severely censured for this by the coroner.

At Waterstock, when a funeral procession had to go through Miss Ashfield's land because of bad weather, to avoid creating a right of way, each gate across the land was locked and the procession halted at each gate while the key was collected from the house, then the gate was locked after them.

In the 17th century, mourners at more wealthy funerals such as that of Edward, the elder brother of Anthony Wood, were presented with gloves, wine and biscuits. Traveller Conrad von Uffenbach described an Oxford funeral in 1710: "The coffin, over which was spread a large black velvet pall, stood on two chairs before the door of a house. When the time came to make a move, some wretched fellows in coloured clothing crept under the cloth and took the coffin on their shoulders without a bier. About eight respectable townsfolk seized the corners of the velvet pall and carried them, and after them followed about eight couples of mourners or relatives, male and female, who walked in two and two leaving the others to follow in a crowd. They all marched along in colours and every one had a stick of rosemary in one hand and in the other a white roll of paper containing white gloves. The house of mourning provides both of these - a great expense as the poorest quality cost at least one shilling and sixpence. Distinguished people are buried by torchlight."

Special arrangements were made for the funerals of children. At Long Hanborough when a baby died in the late 19th century four young women dressed in white, wearing white bonnets tied under the chin, carried the coffin which was placed on a white cloth tied up at the four corners.

At Iffley, four girls carried a white or pale blue coffin, supported by white ribbons threaded through the handles. Children carried the coffin at North Aston and Somerton and at Steeple Aston, boys carried coffins for dead boys and girls coffins for dead girls.

At North Leigh coffins of young people were carried by four young men wearing black coats, white trousers and white gloves, while girls acted as pall-bearers, wearing white dresses and gloves with black jackets and straw hats covered with white muslin.

In mid-19th century Oxford, the bellman often preceded funerals of undergraduates to funerals at college chapels, or St Mary's Church in the High Street, possibly to summon friends to the funeral.

At Piddington, the church provided smocks for the pall-bearers, so that they could come to the funeral straight from their work. As these wore out one of them was copied and a set of six new ones made, worn with black hats and gloves. The smocks are now in the Oxfordshire Museum collection.

When a waterman was buried in Oxford in 1850, three watermen walked either side of his hearse wearing blue jackets and white trousers, followed by the chief mourners, family and friends with a procession of watermen in deep mourning walking in pairs bringing up the rear.

Jackson's Oxford Journal of July 28, 1849, recorded the death of 16 year-old Fanny Bossom, a laundress' daughter who died of consumption.

She was laid in her coffin with her arms across her breast and a cross of nails at the head and foot of the coffin, which was carried from Fisher's Row to St Thomas's Church.

Some people feared being buried alive: Sophia Wykeham, Lady Wenman, who vainly hoped to marry the Duke of Clarence, died in 1870, aged 80, at Thame Park.

She apparently instructed that she should lie in the family crypt in an open coffin for seven days after her death, and have a dome with a breathing hole incorporated on top of the coffin to contain her coronet and remain above ground for 50 years.

Thame Park changed hands and the new owners wanted to restore the chapel so, in 1983, the crypt was opened and it was discovered that there was no breathing hole (and no formal instructions about her burial in her will), and that Lady Wenman had merely desired to lie in state.

Her coffin and coronet were later buried in the family graveyard at a special committal service, led by the Right Reverend Richard Watson, with about 25 guests including Sir Frank and Lady Bowden, former owners of the park and neighbour Robin Gibb, of the Bee Gees.

There is a possible relic of sin-eating from Ambrosden. It used to be customary for a man to eat bread and ale provided for him, together with a fee, in order to take on the sins of the dead person.

At Ambrosden a flagon of ale and a cake were brought by the Minister to the church porch after the burial.

A funeral feast was often provided - and one man from North Leigh complained that he smelt the ham for his funeral being cooked before he had actually died!