We have been thinking a lot lately about the trio of Old Age, Illness and Death.  We live in a village of 750 people, and a large proportion of us (who met when we were in our early fifties) are all gradually growing old together. It has been a difficult couple of weeks to watch television: first, the agonising story of sadistic treatment of the elderly by their carers, as reviewed by Bishop Alan in ‘Dickens Lives! Bullies Rule OK!’. Not that this was regarded as exceptional by any of us who had watched elderly relatives die in nursing homes. Then on Monday we had Terry Pratchett’s programme, equally ably reviewed by the Church Mouse in ‘Helping people to die and showing it on the telly‘ and Charlie Peer in ‘Terry Pratchett on dying‘.

We discussed these programmes, and the realities of life behind them, at a parish lunch. In the circumstances, it is natural perhaps to concentrate on honing one’s gallows sense of humour. How would we all cope, when the time came to face that ‘Bourne, from which no Hollingsworth returns‘? To cheer ourselves up, we concocted a parish plan. When that day arrived, we would make a party of it, hire a charabanc and set off for Switzerland.

Naturally, we would need to spend the night somewhere en route. What about Paris? Since it was going to be our last night on earth, no expense need be spared. There was some debate about where to stay, but eventually we fixed on the Belle Époque splendour of the Ritz Hotel.

We would be tired, of course, so there was no need to make an early start the following morning. In fact, if we had enjoyed our dinner the first night, why didn’t we spend a second night in Paris and set off for Switzerland the next day? It would be fun to have one last potter around everyone’s favourite foreign city. There was some talk of shopping, which tailed off. There was a moment of quiet at this point. Then someone piped up, voicing what we had all been wondering:

‘The thing is, if we are enjoying ourselves in Paris, and spinning it out, why are we going on to Switzerland exactly? Maybe we should just come home?’

In the words of the taxi-driver in Terry Pratchett’s programme, who had decided to trust his fate to the hospice, ‘why not try just another roll of the dice?’

Grant us, O Lord, the royalty of inward happiness, and the serenity which comes from living close to thee. Daily renew in us the sense of joy, and let the eternal Spirit dwell in our souls and bodies, filling every corner of our hearts with light and gladness; so that we may be diffusers of life, and meet all that comes with gallant and high-hearted happiness, giving thee thanks always for all things. Amen

Notes
1.The  illustration is ‘Sand Patterns’ by Royce L Bair, taken in Coral Pink Sand Dunes, Utah. Issued under CCL.
2.The jumbled quote is well-known to anyone over the age of 50 who remembers the old department store Bourne and Hollingsworth but is a parody of the lines from Hamlet’s famous soliloquy:
the dread of something after death,
That undiscover’d country from whose bourne
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
3. Prayer used at the annual service of the Order of St Michael and St George, adapted from a prayer of Robert Louis Stevenson.