You would think it to be an ordinary Saturday if you looked out of my window today. Everyone is wandering about town as if they have somewhere to go. The queues for coffee are as long as ever.
The bass bell of the abbey is solemnly tolling and I wonder for whom. It could be anyone or any number of people these days. I have just heard of Jill's death, so I am setting aside some chimes just for her.
I wonder if it is a good thing - emotionally speaking - that the numbers of mourners at funerals are strictly limited. It is hard not to speculate on how many people would attend one's own funeral during melancholy moments, but it is sobering to remember that they simply tossed Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart into a pit with a bit of quick lime, and he left quite a lot to be remembered by.
I know I have mentioned this before, but do you remember the wealthy Roman in The Satyricon who threw his own lavish funeral party before his death so he could hear the drunken and effusive tributes that his guests would deliver in return for the feast? That has to be one of the most spectacular cases of FOMO in history.
The inscription on a prone and crumbling, giant effigy of Darius the Great lying in a once lush and fertile desert: 'Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair'.
What would you like to be remembered for and what would you rather people forget? I am asking for one-line epitaphs which bear some resemblance to reality. Self-effacing humour is allowed.