What a pleasure it is to turn on my 40-inch LG LED TV at 12.30pm on a wet Thursday afternoon in November and hear that familiar Channel Nine cricket theme.
The cello's anticipatory halting strokes. The horns signalling the beginning of something monumental. The perfectly timed pieces of commentary. That abrupt crescendo. It's permanent. It's original. It's optimistic. And I want it played at my funeral.
Unfortunately this has been a sticking point with my partner ever since we had the "funeral" conversation eight years ago. I've toyed with other ideas. After the birth of my daughter in 2010, I went through a stage of thinking the final movement of Mahler's 3rd Symphony would be a tear-jerking reminder to the congregation how much they'll miss me. But now I think it may be too indulgent to force people to sit through 23 minutes of classical music at a funeral. I know they'd love the ending if they hung in there, but my gut feeling is I'd lose them during the quiet woodwind bits. Besides, it might be tricky finding enough sober images of me to fill the visual void for 23 minutes.
So I've come back around on the Channel Nine Cricket theme. I'm not sure about the commentary bits at a funeral. Probably inappropriate. Hopefully Channel Nine have a clean mix of it somewhere. In fact, I must sort that before it's too late. I don't want to cause undue hassle upon my expiration.
Apologies, I didn't mean this to be about death. I was meant to be celebrating the joys of the Southern Hemisphere television summer.