I would rather be alive than dead. Being dead cannot be much fun because it's like being in a very deep sleep forever and ever. You never wake up. However, being dead would have its advantages. There would be no money worries and you wouldn't have to visit the supermarket every week or yell down the phone at annoying scammers claiming to be from an awful communications company called TalkTalk. Death would also be an effective solution to unbearable physical pain.
Several people who have meant a lot to me are now dead. They include all my grandparents, my mother, my father, my brother Paul and my American friend Richard. In addition, all my pet cats are dead - Oscar, Blizzard and Boris and all the white mice I bred between the ages of twelve and thirteen. No matter how much I plead for them to get in touch again they all remain dead as doorposts and do not utter a single word, miaow or squeak. That's death for you.
There are many different ways to die. You could die fighting against the forces of evil - such as The Islamic State or TalkTalk. You could die mysteriously while watching a film on a jumbo jet or by falling from Mount Everest. However, I would prefer to die like my brother Paul did - in the middle of the night whilst fast asleep.
You are probably wondering why today's blogpost is so morbid. I mean - shhhhh! - nobody wants to think about death with their laptop coffees do they?
Well, to explain - yesterday, when walking in the western fringes of this northern city, I came across a dead lamb. It was a healthy size and had no visible injuries. She was lying in the corner of a field next to an old bath that now acts as a water trough.
Her body was still floppy - suggesting she had died yesterday morning. The last few days have been warm and sunny but not so scorchingly hot that the lamb could have possibly had heatstroke. The old bath is near a public footpath so it is very possible that the lamb died in a panic while being worried by an unleashed dog. In 2017 it is estimated that 15,000 British sheep and lambs were effectively killed by loose dogs.
Farewell sweet lambkin.