I’m definitely getting cremated! Think about it: the last thing you want is to be buried alive. And in a Danish cemetery. I would have died as I lived – out of place. A ‘ton’ among the ‘sens’ – a ‘sentons’ for eternity.
Surely it’s the environmentally responsible thing to do, providing you don’t use 50 gallons of petrol and a longboat. My pseudo-Viking mother keeps on dropping hints – if the witchfinder generals were right about them being made of wood, she should go up a treat (see G12 for Skt Hans Aften).
In the same way it’s permissible to joke about dead people providing they would have died by now (for example, JFK would have been 97 on Thursday, so it’s okay to ask what he most missed in Martha’s Vineyard? THE RUNWAY … oh sorry, that was his son), I would suggest a cremation/burial cut-off point, so those who wish have somewhere to visit to remember you during what should have been the rest of your natural life. Something like 65 should do it.
Not that it would do much good among the Danish male population born just after the war. They’re dropping like flies. My girlfriend’s lost all her uncles in the space of two years. And no, it wasn’t in the same vehicle. Drinking, smoking – the only time I didn’t see them doing one or the other was at the others’ funerals.
I was in a Danish graveyard the other day, killing time reading epitaphs. “Tak for Alt!” read one. I couldn’t help thinking he was being sarcastic.
And it got me thinking what I would put on mine. A few years ago, it would have probably mentioned the World Cup (see G14-15 for our guide to the best places in town to support a particular nationality) and how I’d died unhappy because I never saw England win it.
But then I had kids, so I’ll probably put something about them never being able to beat me at Cluedo.
Providing it goes ahead – the current situation really is quite worrying – the World Cup promises to be a month-long fiesta of football. If you want some good betting tips, check out our issue in two weeks’ time in which we will also be publishing our own Copenhagen Post wallchart.
Talking of bargains, I hear that Tracey Emin’s ‘Unmade Bed’ (see G4 for this month’s art selection) is up for sale for ten million kroner plus.
Well, Mr Satchi, I would like to make the first bid: ten … whole kroner. But I feel I must warn you that I will be billing you for a cleaner.
Thank god Picasso, Van Gogh and Renoir weren’t cremated. If Saatchi gets his asking price, they will be spinning in their graves for eternity.