Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Stay awake at the back

I've been sitting here in the fetid bowels of the Pundy House for over a year now trying to think of something to say.  It's difficult to come up with an answer when you don't know the question but I'm doing my best.  My only worry is that there aren't any questions left, in which case I'm fucked.

Despite my brain still being blank a couple of days ago I got up, rubbed down my buttocks and went off to Highgate Cemetery to cheer myself up.

It was full of dead people.  No, that's not true.  It wasn't full and a lot of the people weren't dead.  According to their headstones a lot of them were sleeping.

Karl Marx was still there, although there has been talk of moving him abroad.  He was the only one of the Marx Brothers I could find.  And Jeremy Beedle of course, with a rather nice headstone.  And a lot of other people I didn't know even when they were alive. 

Disappointingly there weren't too many witty headstones along the lines of Spike Milligan's "I told them I was ill" but perhaps that's to be expected.  For some people death is a cause for regret, even though we all do it.  I suppose it depends on the circumstances.  If you're lucky your passing will be a natural one, at a good age.  I wonder what a good age is?  When you're too knackered to collect your pension?  Maybe when even the Viagra Extra Strength doesn't work.  Doesn't sound like a very good age, does it?  Yeah, I think you'd know when your time had come.  Or more accurately, passed.

As I strolled around  the bosky avenues of Highgate I got to thinking about what my own epitaph should be.  Maybe "See you later."  Or how about "He fell asleep - watching Gardeners' World"?

Perhaps I won't have a headstone.  My father doesn't.  I could get cremated and have the ashes scattered at sea instead.  That would be nice.  Floating on the wind, cradled by the waves.  Sort of poetic.

If I do go that way - and a lot depends on the price - I can see my epitaph now:

                 He fell asleep and got scattered at sea.
                            Now he's all over the place.

Oh, and by the way, in case you're wondering, the play got rejected.