It is certain that, if I am conscious on my deathbed, I shall regret the things that I have not done. But when it comes to the really important matters, family, friends and so on; I shall just have to console myself with the thought that at least I tried to make the great jigsaw of life work well for those around me.
If I had my time again, I would choose to be a great opera singer (not necessarily a star, please note). Once the throat had become craggy and the voice of little pleasure to others, my retirement ambition would be no different from that of the moment.
I would buy a sea plane or flying boat and take off for the Indian Ocean and Pacific, flying beautiful birds around the islands whilst smoking the finest Cuban cigars, drinking the best spiced rum and returning every evening to my delicious lady who would have a meal of stewed monkey and plantans ready for me with a bottle of Petrus 1990, or some such oenophilous treat.
What I shall really do is perhaps somewhat different but the unrequited passion of reality nonetheless leaves my imagination in full flood and as I drift into death I know where I shall direct my fantastical reveries, if I am able so to do.
