Hours spent by the living considering death are incalculable, but it's a proportion of our time that seems likely to increase the longer we stick around. The trick, insofar as there could be said to be one, might be to render the inevitable spectacular by imagining that our exits will at least not be banal. This appeared to be the strategy for the two men eating next to me, and they seemed cheerful enough.
Man 1 "I was talking to my mate last week. His dad's in a home."
Man 2 "Right."
Man 1 "He says to him, 'Get us some heroin.'"
Man 2 "'Cos he's had enough?"
Man 1 "Right. He says, 'Get us some heroin or I'll cut my dick off.'"
Man 2 "Hold on!"
Man 1 "Exactly. He thought that would be a good way to die."
Man 2 "Wow. I don't know if that would even kill you. That could be like all pain, no gain …"
Man 1 (laughing) "Well, he put that to him and he said, 'It's not like I need it any more.'"
Man 2 "Jesus. How old is he?"
Man 1 "93."
Man 2 "Did you see that Terry Pratchett thing, about the place in Sweden?"
Man 1 "Switzerland. Yeah. I'm all for that."
Man 2 "Me too. It just looks a bit dull, though."
Man 1 "Yeah, you should be able to drink the poison at the top of a rollercoaster, or a bungee jump, then have it kick in as you're coming down."
Man 2 "Rather than sitting on a sofa in fucking Sweden."
Man 1 "Switzerland."
Man 2 "Either way …"