Love of my life

Sarah Jane dies yesterday. Pseudonymph talks of the big C. It's such a down note.

So I must lazy blog this:


I can remember where I was when I heard Freddie had died. I suppose it's a bit like the older generation and Elvis.

I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought of death much. In a way, I could quite accept being told you've got X time left, instead of mind that bus, what bus? splat!

You could make sure things where going to go the way you want them. No git slipping in 'wind beneath my wings' for the send off...
You could be rude to the funeral people... come on, give me a price, some of us haven't got all week you know....

Oh, and I want dead milkmen - land of the shakers at my send off. Anyone who doesn't turn up and join in is disinherited.