The Last Will And Testament
Without Prejudice
I had food poisoning once, at that stage, without a word of a lie, I asked for paper and pen so I could write my last Will and Testament. Dreamworld, hot day, I had the chicken, everyone else had burgers. I felt hot on the way home, dizzy, hung my head out of the passenger side for fresh air. Once I hit the house I was ill as I had never been before. I vomited so much my stomach went into spasms and felt like it had "locked up ".
A doctor was called and made a rare home visit and told me I wouldn't die after all. So no Will And Testament then and none now.
I have just returned from Britain and spent time with my 92 year old Aunty Betty, her Aunt, my great Aunt, Mary is 103 , both hale and hearty. So I was smug when I reached Australian Shores once again. I had long living rellies, Joy for Joy, both mentally fit and running their own independent lives. I therefore will naturally follow their lead, barring accidents. Or my kids stress doesn't kill me first. I lost a child 24 years ago and for the last 24 years I have been the over anxious Mummy from Hell.
And being a Baby Boomer I refuse to get old and still head bang to The Angels and have lavicious thoughts about James Reyne and Robert Palmer, even though he is no longer with us. The lead singer of Metallica is pretty good too. So being a Baby Boomer and wanting to remain young the thoughts of finalising my funeral or death were as alien to me as flying to the Moon, just not going to happen.
Until a friend died two weeks ago, two years older than me, fell asleep forever watching the news. Admittedly he was an alcoholic, worked once in an Iron Foundry and didn't like it, so worked on never working again. Had a scurrilous lifestyle, loved his Mum and Stepfather and family, his various lovers and children. My grand children were his God Children and if that sounds strange you had to have met the man. One of natures true gentle men and gentlemen.
Last week a friend the same age as I, told me she had prepared for her funeral and prepared her Will. Afterwards I felt a bit mortal. Hadn't I fallen over straight on to the back of my skull at Brisbane Airport ? The lump came out like a cartoon lump, a big solid egg on the back of my head. Road Runner style. It's still there, a big calcified piece of bone, that will take months to re absorb, the doctors said.
And recently I was waking up with a headache every morning. Every morning day after day and a weird ripple thing across my temple like a moving ice cream headache. So once again I thought,
"What if I die ?"
I don't want to leave it to my kids to scramble around trying to organise my funeral at the last minute. I have suggested to them if I am in a wheelchair to just push me off Mordiallic Pier late one night or if I am ga ga and in pain I will pay them to shoot me. Or slip me a lot of killer pills. They won't do it. So I will have to do it, organise the funeral that is and what do I leave ? I have three daughters, fourteen Grandkids, three great grandchildren. At last count.
That's twenty people I would have to leave something to. Two fifths of stuff all except for the rights to my stories, my passwords to Social Media and a little mini house of retro fifties kitchen kitsch, a second hand red old Toyota Corolla, which I love, my IPad, best present I have ever had and a lot of clothes and shoes.
Maybe if I die my writings will become " artist post starving in garret "stuff and make a million or two. I should change my name now to J. L. Shaw. After A.A.Milne, J.K. Rowling, they all used initials in front of their surnames. In fact I always thought e.e.cummings was a woman mainly because of the lack of pretension by Mr Cummings not using capitals.
So I have to do it along with becoming an Australian Citizen, even though I have lived here in Oz forever, I have decided this year, 2014, to become a senior person. No more young lovers, no more head banging to Doc Neeson. I shall become a grown up. And have the time of my life doing it. I shall wear brogues and tweeds in Winter and buy an umbrella. Always wear a bra and girdle like my Aunties, no jiggling.
And I will prepare a will for my kids so that they can have two fifths of stuff all and all my love and bribe them to play Robert Palmer singing Johnny And Mary at my funeral. I will have to think of two more, the choice is huge. My Dad was a musician and music thrills me, always has and always will. Any and most music, classical, hymns, gospel, country and western, bop, pop, rap, you name it I like it except for Jazz.
" Midnight Train To Georgia" is right up there with Gladys Knight, ( my Scottish aunt's name ) singing, a truly beautiful voice. I could have the three girls dressed up as The Pips doing the "Toot Toot" thing at the front of my coffin.
Or Donna Summer and Barbra Streisand,
" Enough is Enough "
Lots of things to ponder over the next week.
Lots of Love,
Nette x
I had food poisoning once, at that stage, without a word of a lie, I asked for paper and pen so I could write my last Will and Testament. Dreamworld, hot day, I had the chicken, everyone else had burgers. I felt hot on the way home, dizzy, hung my head out of the passenger side for fresh air. Once I hit the house I was ill as I had never been before. I vomited so much my stomach went into spasms and felt like it had "locked up ".
A doctor was called and made a rare home visit and told me I wouldn't die after all. So no Will And Testament then and none now.
I have just returned from Britain and spent time with my 92 year old Aunty Betty, her Aunt, my great Aunt, Mary is 103 , both hale and hearty. So I was smug when I reached Australian Shores once again. I had long living rellies, Joy for Joy, both mentally fit and running their own independent lives. I therefore will naturally follow their lead, barring accidents. Or my kids stress doesn't kill me first. I lost a child 24 years ago and for the last 24 years I have been the over anxious Mummy from Hell.
And being a Baby Boomer I refuse to get old and still head bang to The Angels and have lavicious thoughts about James Reyne and Robert Palmer, even though he is no longer with us. The lead singer of Metallica is pretty good too. So being a Baby Boomer and wanting to remain young the thoughts of finalising my funeral or death were as alien to me as flying to the Moon, just not going to happen.
Until a friend died two weeks ago, two years older than me, fell asleep forever watching the news. Admittedly he was an alcoholic, worked once in an Iron Foundry and didn't like it, so worked on never working again. Had a scurrilous lifestyle, loved his Mum and Stepfather and family, his various lovers and children. My grand children were his God Children and if that sounds strange you had to have met the man. One of natures true gentle men and gentlemen.
Last week a friend the same age as I, told me she had prepared for her funeral and prepared her Will. Afterwards I felt a bit mortal. Hadn't I fallen over straight on to the back of my skull at Brisbane Airport ? The lump came out like a cartoon lump, a big solid egg on the back of my head. Road Runner style. It's still there, a big calcified piece of bone, that will take months to re absorb, the doctors said.
And recently I was waking up with a headache every morning. Every morning day after day and a weird ripple thing across my temple like a moving ice cream headache. So once again I thought,
"What if I die ?"
I don't want to leave it to my kids to scramble around trying to organise my funeral at the last minute. I have suggested to them if I am in a wheelchair to just push me off Mordiallic Pier late one night or if I am ga ga and in pain I will pay them to shoot me. Or slip me a lot of killer pills. They won't do it. So I will have to do it, organise the funeral that is and what do I leave ? I have three daughters, fourteen Grandkids, three great grandchildren. At last count.
That's twenty people I would have to leave something to. Two fifths of stuff all except for the rights to my stories, my passwords to Social Media and a little mini house of retro fifties kitchen kitsch, a second hand red old Toyota Corolla, which I love, my IPad, best present I have ever had and a lot of clothes and shoes.
Maybe if I die my writings will become " artist post starving in garret "stuff and make a million or two. I should change my name now to J. L. Shaw. After A.A.Milne, J.K. Rowling, they all used initials in front of their surnames. In fact I always thought e.e.cummings was a woman mainly because of the lack of pretension by Mr Cummings not using capitals.
So I have to do it along with becoming an Australian Citizen, even though I have lived here in Oz forever, I have decided this year, 2014, to become a senior person. No more young lovers, no more head banging to Doc Neeson. I shall become a grown up. And have the time of my life doing it. I shall wear brogues and tweeds in Winter and buy an umbrella. Always wear a bra and girdle like my Aunties, no jiggling.
And I will prepare a will for my kids so that they can have two fifths of stuff all and all my love and bribe them to play Robert Palmer singing Johnny And Mary at my funeral. I will have to think of two more, the choice is huge. My Dad was a musician and music thrills me, always has and always will. Any and most music, classical, hymns, gospel, country and western, bop, pop, rap, you name it I like it except for Jazz.
" Midnight Train To Georgia" is right up there with Gladys Knight, ( my Scottish aunt's name ) singing, a truly beautiful voice. I could have the three girls dressed up as The Pips doing the "Toot Toot" thing at the front of my coffin.
Or Donna Summer and Barbra Streisand,
" Enough is Enough "
Lots of things to ponder over the next week.
Lots of Love,
Nette x
