A rather serious matter

Sunday 18th May, the sun was shining and I invited a few friends around for dinner in the garden. The usual suspects were in attendance, Bean Counter, her two sons, Roger Moor and his son and my good friends the Taxman, his wife and their youngest. Also making a surprise visit was Ted Magnum back from South America. As we dined and the beer flowed Ted told us a little about his travels. How petrol in Venezuela was only 3p (yes 3p that is not a typographical error) a litre and how in Ushia Bourbon was so cheap they used it to start Barbecues instead of fire lighting fluid.

After dinner I started the almost compulsory firebox and we sat round and chatted and caught up on gossip and events by the light of the flickering flames. During the evening we tried counting how many tadpoles are in my pond, (it seemed like a good idea at the time and yes they are back again and in numbers) but gave up due to the fact they will not stay still for long enough. As the guest’s left and BC retired, I sat in the garden and thought heavily about the friends who were not there. The Tiler is deeply missed and I have not spoken to him in ages. I have not had time to email the Printer and I thought about many other friends whose company I once took for granted and it was an almost given that I would see them at least once a week.

Ted’s tales reminded me of just how much I want to leave here and also left me feeling a little apprehensive. It’s a big world out there and I am no more than a miniscule speck on its surface. I know I am going to miss all my friends and my nearest and dearest. I know I will be leaving behind everything that I have become used to over the years including a home and a job and I have no idea what awaits me on the day the money from the sale of the house enters my bank account. All of this is a long way off yet but I can’t help thinking about it.

I have never made a will. The very thought of doing so was to accept my mortality and yet on Sunday night I thought about what would happen if something untoward should happen to me while I am away. Who would have to clear up the logistical mess caused by my inability to accept the inevitable? Some one would have to see to what was left of my estate and sort out my stuff. Who do I make executor, would they even want to do it should I name them? Who would I leave what stuff I had collected over the years to, who would want it? Taking off on a jolly seems like a great idea, a whole lot of fun but its actually a rather serious matter.

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