Keep Calm and Carry On

Went to the funeral yesterday. It was grim, as funerals tend to be.

Another religious ceremony, but it seemed to mean a bit more than my grandmother's did.

I think I'll just set out what I want for my funeral. Of course, I don't anticipate this happening until I'm 358 years old and the youth drugs finally stop working (I think I read to much science fiction. Or maybe I'm just an optimist). But I thought I would let you know in advance so you're prepared.

I want to go out in a boat. This isn't strictly burial at sea. I want what the vikings did. Cast adrift in a burning skiff, with tokens of my life surrounding me.

There will be a large group of mourners at the shore, including a group of scantily clad young men beating themselves with birch twigs and wailing.

And strangely enough, my visualisation of the scene always stops there. At the scantily clad young men. With birch twigs. Mmmmmm, spanking.

I'm sorry - I have to go. Right now!