My mother always used to tell me to leave the party whilst I was still having fun.

Fortunately, we were able to make sure that Monty left the party whilst he was still having some fun. And, as I was sitting there in the garden with the sun on my back, stroking him as his heart stopped beating and his last breaths left his body, I thought to myself, not for the first time, why can’t we do this for people?

My mother would have wanted to have had the choice to leave the party while she was still having fun, but she couldn’t, and so she turned to face the corner and disengaged from the party until the bitter end.

I don’t think that I am afraid of death. But I am petrified as to the manner of it. Best to go quickly without warning. If that’s not possible, then I’d like the choice to leave the party whilst I’m still having fun. Who knows? When the time comes to face it, I may decide, what the hell, let’s party until dawn, mine sweep all the half empty glasses and wake up with the mother of all hangovers face down in a puddle of who knows what. But at least it will have been my choice.