Funeral wishes
Cremation, not burial. Service at St Thomas's, Salisbury, if Reverend Calloway is still there — he knows what to do. If not, a short humanist service is fine.
No black. Ask people to wear something I'd have liked — Sarah will know what that means.
Hymns: "Be Thou My Vision", "I Vow To Thee My Country". Reading: Mary Oliver, "When Death Comes". No eulogy from a stranger; if you can manage to speak, say something short. If you can't, that is also fine — let your uncle James do it, he loves a microphone.
Scatter the ashes in the rose garden with your father's. Don't make a thing of it. A quiet afternoon, a flask of tea, just family.
Wake at the house. Cold cuts, wine, Spotify on the kitchen speaker — there's a playlist called "Mum's good day" already saved.
Subscriptions to cancel
Most of these auto-renew. Please cancel within the first month:
— Times (digital + paper) — 0800 018 5177
— Spotify Family (kept on your plan, I think? Check)
— Audible
— National Trust membership — already paid through April 2027, let it lapse
— Royal Horticultural Society
— Sainsbury's online (just delete the account)
— Headspace (annual, renews October — cancel before then)
— Calm (annual, renews January)
— Two Patreon accounts — see Bitwarden, both small monthly amounts
Don't cancel the BT broadband until probate is finished — Whitcombe & Hayes will need to email me occasionally and bounced mail makes their life harder.
The cat
Henry is fourteen and a half. He'll outlive me in defiance, probably. He hates the carrier and he hates car journeys and he hates being picked up by strangers.
Pippa next door has agreed to take him if you can't. Don't feel guilty about that — she adores him and he adores her and he'll be fine. The vet records, microchip number, and pet insurance details are in the brown folder in the dresser.
He gets one and a half pouches in the morning and one in the evening. No more, regardless of what he tells you.