Yesterday I watched as a small jeep followed by a moving van made its way down my lane. There were no pretty girls in the jeep so my attention was moved to the moving van. This obviously meant new neighbours . I just wondered where they were going to fit it.
My maid confirms that they will be staying at the old house down the lane where the lady died. I remember her she always would walk to the bakery at around 5 to buy a loaf of bread. She shared her home with a cat or a dog, not too sure about that. But she wasn’t technically alone.
A couple of months ago they had found her body in her house decaying. She had been dead for over 2 weeks and no one noticed. Obviously until the smell hit the neighbours. Her funeral was small. A handful of people attended. She was really quiet and didn’t bother anyone. A real lady.
I always thought that if I’m going to die, I have to go in style. Maybe hero like. Sacrificing my life for the world or a bus full of kids. The thought of me dying slowly and alone would be depressing. But I would be quite happy with the turnout. We might have to move the funeral party (if its my death its going to be a party) from my home to somewhere with a bit more space like The Warehouse Project or Mojo. The playlist will be mainly songs I like and a request or two from the crowd will always be accepted!
But they say its never good to talk about your own death. The whole “Don’t wish for what you think” crap. But hey if I die saving a bus full of children. You’ll come. Wont you?