On Dying



Image courtesy of Williams Funerals.

When I was joking yesterday about running out of topics to blog about, I didn’t think I’d arrive so quickly at the very last topic you’d think of, death. But death has been on my mind lately, not in a morbid or depressed or even a sad way, but largely due to watching and strangely enjoying the documentary series on BBC2, Dead Good Job.

It’s been insightful, educational and even funny at times, not to mention thought-provoking. Until I watched it, I hadn’t given all that much thought of what I wanted to happen to me when I die. But I think I have a rough idea now. That willow coffin up there would be lovely and much more economical than the wooden ones. I am an efficiently practical person and as such I think my final arrangements should reflect that – so stick me in a basket and wheel me up to the church on a trolley, please (because although I’m a lapsed Catholic, I still have enough fear of God in me from school to want to be given a proper religious send-off). I don’t want anyone putting their back out lugging my bloated corpse around.

Until the last episode, I hadn’t realised it was a thing, but there are now woodland burial sites all around the UK these days. No need to go into a cemetery when you could have your very own spot overlooking a snowy vista like this:

It sounds odd to say it, but I can totally see myself enjoying that in the afterlife – looking out at that from my comfy willow basket. I’d like to be near water, either by the seaside or a river – this place on Speyside would suit me fine. My other stipulation is that there must be at least one floral tribute that spells out BAWBAG in those large Oasis letters. Apart from that, you can do what you like. Might want to wear your wellies, mind you. It’s hopefully a very long way off before anyone would have to worry about this, but I feel quite at peace to think that I’ve written this down somewhere and should anything happen, people will know what to do with me. Now, um…have a nice day!


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