Death has a way of sneaking up on a body. No idea he's about to come
knocking, most of the timde. That's how I like it. In Florida there was a
corpse on the gold course, just about par for most days among the old
codgers there, while an ancient biddy played a cracking hand of bridge
before making up a four with her maker.
My uncle George dropped
dead off a bar stool, having hit the same floor several times before. A
thick kid working as a builder's mate brought a wall down on top of him,
failing to grasp the concept of gravity.
I've known diabetics
choke on sugar forced on them by sweet friends and young men jump under
buses thinking their cancer was incurable. It wasn't Sad cases all. God
knows when my time will come. I'm glad I don't.
Just hoping it's
not in an NHS hospital with Sir David Nicholson in charge. Can you
imagine, they gave him a knighthood? Enough to bring on a seizure.
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