I think that dying might bring about a profound loneliness. I don’t feel lonely in life, but I do think this would be a very hard discovery at the end. Assuming there might be a time of consciousness, I think that serious medication might be a help. Not to put me out, but to smooth things over. The last time I had surgery, the anesthesiologist visited me in Recovery and gave me a sheet of paper on which was listed all of the drugs he had administered. I was glad to get it after the surgery, since I went down the list thinking, That’s what killed Michael Jackson, that’s what killed Prince. I don’t take recreational drugs, never did, but I would like to have the option of taking the edge off of fear. People I love at my bedside—I don’t see that being a comfort, but a reminder of who I’ll be losing. Music might be welcome. I could imagine wanting to hear Jorma Kaukonen sing “Genesis.”

My last afternoon would be spent with my friends. Nothing spectacular, just good times. We’d maybe walk through Soho in London getting a little loaded and making it up as we go along. Some good rum and that’s all.

My house by the sea to the sound of ropes pinging against boat masts and gulls on the roof. Instant coffee, white toast and watching The Wright Stuff in bed. It’s my last day! If I haven’t done it yet I don’t want to cram it all in now.

To be honest, if it was my last day on Earth doing any type of work would probably be the last thing on my mind. So I don’t think there would be any professional endeavours on the last day on Earth. But, I’ve been to the North Pole so you might as well throw in the South Pole. Gotta check out the South Pole.