Tomorrow, I am going to a meeting where, for the first time ever, I will be discussing succession planning in Melbourne. Sadly no, that does not mean that I am going to sit in a dimly lit room and plot to overthrow the king, thus securing a higher place in the line of succession for myself. What it does mean is that I will be taking my future into my own hands in one of the most depressing and existential ways possible. I am, of course, going to be planning for what happens to all my worldly possessions in the event of my death.

Like I suspect many of you out there reading this, although I have not yet heard of a single person out there to avoid death, I believe it is possible for myself. A world without me in it is simply incomprehensible. It doesn’t make sense. And yet, like so many things, it must come pass. So just ignoring it is an unwise course of action. In fact, the whole purpose of constructing my very own last will and testament in Melbourne is that I haven’t made one in over ten years, since I moved here from England. As such, my will wouldn’t take into account an exceedingly wide range of factors, including my wife and family here in Australia. Of course, not including my friends and family would be ludicrous, and so I must once again face my mortality tete-a-tete.

As the astute reader has in all likelihood deduced at this point, such a meeting is not one I look forward to. In fact, I’ve been avoiding it for years. But there is only so far one can run before it becomes necessary to face the facts and, for me, the time has come. Whilst it is sure to be hard, it is important, and all important things need to be done.