The main building is a mix of 1970s brutalist concrete and modern glass extensions. It’s like a sad, grey Lego block that suddenly had a chic skylight glued on. Honestly, it’s the architectural equivalent of wearing a tuxedo with Crocs—functional but oddly endearing.
Inside, the chapel seats 140 people, but let’s be real: at a Scottish funeral, that’s barely enough room for the immediate family and the person who brings the Irn-Bru. The acoustics are surprisingly good, though. I’ve heard that a local pipe band once played “Amazing Grace” in there, and the building hummed along like a contented wombat.
Fun fact: The crematorium installed a carpet of crushed quartz in the main hall to reduce noise. It’s not just practical—it’s glitzy. If you die here, you get a final walk on what is essentially disco floor material. Subtle, but fabulous.
The Weirdness of the Garden of Remembrance
Outside, the Garden of Remembrance is a serene spot with a central fountain. But here’s the weird part: they have a dedicated “butterfly tree” where people tie tiny ceramic butterflies to remember loved ones. It whistles in the wind. I’m not sure if that’s beautiful or mildly terrifying—like a tree possessed by gentle ghosts.
Morton Hall Crematorium - Crematoriums in Edinburgh | Funeral Guide
There’s also a pet cemetery tucked away in the corner. Yes, Fido can be remembered here too. The dogs are buried near the humans, which is oddly comforting. Imagine spending eternity next to a Shetland pony’s ashes—heaven or a nightmare? You decide.
And don’t forget the swans. A pair of mute swans live on the pond, and they’re fiercely territorial. I’ve seen one chase a mourner who got too close to a flower arrangement. Death ain’t no excuse for lax goose-like etiquette, apparently.
