Undertaker

My collection of tweaks and aches brought on by everyday events is gathering momentum. When I bend down my knees click, when I stand my ankles wobble. The collarbone I broke the night before my inter cert has started to throb when it’s cold and sting when it's hot. I ran for the bus earlier only to feel my back spasm in my first stride. When I was younger I could play full length football matches everyday without even stretching. These days when I play badminton the warm ups last longer than the game.

I was watching some WWE recently. The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin and The Big Show have grey in their goatee. So do I, now that I think of it.

It's hard to say anything new and fresh about ageing that hasn't been said countless times before by bad TV comedians. I guess we're just lucky that we are alive now. The life expectancy of affluent men living in London in the 16th century was 35, 25 if they were poor. I imagine a jippy knee is preferable to the smallpox or diphtheria.

There is the wide held belief that men tend to make a bigger deal of being sick than women do. It is, of course, the fairer sex who makes these claims but, as a man, it’s hard to refute these allegations. Especially when you submit the evidence of my behaviour the last time I was properly ill.

In mid February 2010 I looked death square in the face and cried like a little baby. I’m not a big believer in putting a brave face on things, so when I was suffering from a tummy bug, I suffered aloud.

Anyone who would listen got to hear of how much pain I was in and a blow by blow description of my constant back and forth visits to the toilet. I was convinced my insides wanted to get out one way or another. If I wasn’t in the bathroom I was lying on bed feeling very sorry for myself.

Such was my misery and my conviction that my appointment with the grim reaper was imminent that I began to plan my own funeral.  The type of service, the music, the food served. In my self pity I event managed the world’s greatest send off.

I would like a non secular ceremony, with an open forum so if someone wished to share a story about me, good or bad, they could so. I don’t want it to be a place for people to mourn but to come and remember me.

 I want the cheapest coffin available, wicker or plywood, as I would prefer to be cremated and there is no point wasting money on expensive firewood. Ideally I think I’d like my box to purple but I won’t complain if it’s not.

Food wise, I had thought that my ashes could be used to season a casserole but this sounds distasteful to anyone who I have suggested it to, so I’ll probably stick to sandwiches. I would like a variety of music played including Vanderlyle Cry-baby Geek by The National, Mr. Boombastic by Shaggy and Ruby by the Kaiser Chiefs. I don’t particularly like the Kaiser Chiefs song but it’s impossible not to sing along to and I think that would be pretty amusing at a funeral.

My religious beliefs, or lack thereof, mean I don’t really have lot expectancy from death. I hope it’s painless and quick. I’d be very surprised if there is an afterlife but if there is I’ll gladly hold my hand up and admit that I was wrong.

This might not be a subject that’s to your taste. Some people don’t like to think about death. And if anyone is experiencing a loss that is still raw, I don’t want to bring up sad memories or make light of the subject. Death is something that comes to us all and we deal with in our own way. I just want to make sure mine is done right.

The start of this piece was taken from a post I did on my other blog Bus-to-Move. It came from a random thought as do all the posts on the site but it led to me to want to write about this in a bit more detail.