For decades, the Swansea Evening Post was the bedrock of morning routines. People would grab a copy, scan the sports, grumble about the council, and then—inevitably—check the deaths. It was like a morbid, communal morning coffee.
Donald (Don) Strawbridge: Swansea Obituary & Death Notice - Swansea
There’s an unspoken rule: you read the deaths to make sure your own name isn’t there. “Phew, not me today. Better go put the bins out.” It’s a daily reminder that you’re still in the game. A tiny, darkly comic victory lap.
Old friends would run into each other at the newsagent’s and say, “Did you see old Tom’s notice?” Not with sadness, but with a sort of reverent gossip. “I heard he went peacefully. Good for him.” It’s surprisingly uplifting to see someone get a good send-off.
Why It’s Actually Uplifting
Here’s the twist: reading about deaths is strangely life-affirming. When you see a notice for someone who lived to 95, you don’t think, “Oh, that’s sad.” You think, “Wow, that person saw everything—the moon landing, the birth of the internet, and the invention of the selfie stick.”
It makes you appreciate the small victories. The fact that you’re reading this, drinking a lukewarm cup of tea, and still breathing? That’s a win. The deaths column reminds you to call your mum. To eat the last biscuit. To laugh at a bad joke.
Barbara Demaid of Clydach, Swansea — Obituary & Death Notice - Swansea
And here’s the best part: the Swansea Evening Post has embraced the digital age. Now, the death notices are online, with little guestbooks where people leave messages. “Remember that time you danced on the table at the Mermaid? You legend.” It’s a party in the comments section. A very, very quiet party, but a party nonetheless.
