Funeral Inspo and Good Enough Plans...

Yes Brett! I was banging on
about your podcast!

Once a week, I find myself pondering death. Yep, you heard. No holds barred today. It's because I listen to Brett Goldstein's podcast Films To Be Buried With. Each week he asks his guest a series of questions, including how they think they will die, whether they believe in an afterlife, and what's the one film they want with them in heaven, for when it's their turn to choose movie night.* It's a cracking listen. So when the pod drops each Thursday, I find myself driving to Costa or picking up groceries, soundtracked by all the big questions. Life, death, legacy, and what film did you used to love, but you saw it recently and it doesn't hold up anymore? Like I said, it's a cracking listen.

Legacy is an interesting one. For parents of children, it's a no-brainer. Your DNA literally outlives you, regardless of what else you achieve. Good one. For me, it's less obvious. I don't need to be remembered beyond the lifespan of anyone that knew me for real, but I do like that my books - the fruit of my literary loins! - are in the British Library. I think they're supposed to be there forever. At least their place on a computerised index system will be. Fun! 

Tiff from Eastenders was
killed with a cheese.
It all happens in Midsomer.

What I have given more thought to, is the vibe of my funeral. There's a Midsomer Murders episode with Honor Blackman. You know the one, right? Course you do. She gets bumped off early doors, but her funeral is filled with laughter and music. Cases of champagne are carried into the house as a thank you from someone she once helped. It's agreed by all in attendance that she was a right good laugh, and they toast and celebrate accordingly. (Much to the chagrin of her grown up son and his wife, who were more of the view that Mummy was a bit much.) Anyway. I digress. That's a great vibe for a funeral. Whack on the music - Alexa, play Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves - and crack open the booze. Toast me, enjoy yourself, have a laugh. That's a good enough plan, innit?

Image: from the BBC

There are, of course, other brilliant ways to celebrate a life. On Thursday, Barry Cryer died. When I saw the news, I felt an immediate pang. He'd been famous my entire life. He hadn't retired. He hadn't quietly faded from view because of scandal. He'd written for comedians of all generations and remained relevant and funny in his older years. Here's a clip from Would I Lie To You if you want a refresh. 

This has been shared repeatedly
so I don't know who to credit.
Barry Cryer, I guess.

All through Thursday, my Twitter timeline gathered momentum. I mostly follow writers, comedians, and political journalists, so apart from the latest Downing Street nonsense, there was only one story. Tweet after tweet, tributes were paid. It became clear that Barry Cryer had known, or been friends, with almost everyone that's ever worked in comedy. Young and old paid their respects. New stand ups just breaking through, as well as seasoned comics who knew him fifty years ago. But what was particularly lovely was the tone of the tributes. Rather than the sombre nature of usual RIP comments, my timeline was filled with joke after joke after joke. Anecdotes about meeting him, stories from between filming takes, ad libbed punchlines that he delivered with a twinkle - it was a treasure trove of comedic gold. Everyone shared. I grinned each time I looked. Eventually I felt the need to tweet myself. My opinion is mostly irrelevant almost all of the time, yet I wanted to share what a joy it was to read the collective outpouring. I went with, 'My timeline is filled with love for Barry Cryer and it's so cheering despite the news. What a legacy.'

An artist's impression
of my funeral.

Indeed, what a legacy. What an amazing body of work to leave behind. Wouldn't it be brilliant to have had a career like his. But what became clear on Thursday, was that you don't need to be a comedy writer extraordinaire to leave such a big mark on the world. The main theme of the tributes was that Barry Cryer was a good friend. He made people laugh. He was kind. How lovely is that? And it's achievable for all of us. We might not have worked with Morecambe and Wise, but we can aim to live lives that make others happy. That, along with the champagne and Alexa funeral, is another good enough plan. Innit.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*My first thought is always Before Sunrise. It's my absolute favourite and always will be. But what I love about that film is leaving it years between viewings so it comes at me fresh with each rewatch. Not ideal for my only film for eternity. So instead, I'm going to say When Harry Met Sally. I could watch that forever. And I would have to.

**Wedding Crashers. It used to make me snort laughing but now comes off as entitled man-babies duping women into sex. Yuck.