De døde har det ikke lett

‘The well of life — pah! The well of death, woman — that’s what you’re down. Nope — you’re dead. The reason your son doesn’t keep in touch is that you’re dead — and he’s dead too! He died in the early eighties. First the cardiac arrhythmia, like a drum figure falling apart, then the big wrench to nowhere. Then Woking.’


‘Woking, Surrey, that’s where he’s spending his death. As to how come he doesn’t keep in touch? Well, the dead find it just as hard as the living, you know — keeping in touch. It’s an effort to call, to write, to pay a visit. Especially when your mother’s dead but doesn’t even realise it.’

—Will Self

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