PS

Forget about death; think about the living; as I have just done.

I mentioned the roaring trade in coffins; I tell you where the real money in disposing of the dead is: Flowers.

Many a time a florist’s van will park in front of my house. My heart quickens; more fool me. All those bouquets go straight to the person who can’t appreciate them any more. Why oh why oh why can’t we do more for each other when still breathing?

U

In the midst of death

I live opposite an undertaker (it’s a narrow street).

They are never out of work. There is a constant flow of dark cars in and out of their drive. If they have a body in the parlour the light stays on all night. Why? It’s hardly as if that soul will be reaching for a book on the bed side table.

Yesterday there was a delivery of (empty) coffins. I am not your average curtain twitcher but I couldn’t help noticing that several dozen being unloaded from the van were all of the same design; I’d draw it for you but I haven’t yet mastered that facility on wordpress. To think of all those people who have lived THEIR life to then be disposed of in a conveyor belt coffin.

And before you ask: Mine will be a cardboard box, slot in woodland grounds already booked though haven’t quite decided which tree or bush to be planted on top of me. Maybe I should go with my maiden name which denotes a (common) tree. Can you imagine how embarrassing it’ll be if the tree above my remains then wilts? Poor Felix, I hope he’ll see the funny side of it.

U