One day, if I ever find myself with time on my hands, I think I might write a book entitled “How not to die”. It is a pretty catchy title – and might even guarantee selling a copy to Mr E.
Alas, such a publication would not give away the secret of eternal life, but rather it would tell the story of how one can make life difficult for one’s offspring when the time comes to rendezvous with St Peter at the Pearly Gates. I rather think that given the tragi-comedy elements involved, it might do for death what Peter Mayle did for the Luberon… It would involve all manner of high jinks that occur when one’s parent passes away in a foreign hotel in the back of beyond in Switzerland, while on a holiday designed to enjoy the scenic magnificence of Swiss railways and their mighty feats of engineering. It would involve contrary Swiss bureaucracy, missing death certificates and the complications involved in having to be buried in a world-famous cathedral. And one can add sub plots of broken down paperless cars and literally tons of beautifully labelled but utterly mixed up paperwork, dating back 75 years.
Trying to put this all in order has kept me fully employed for almost a month, during which time Formula 1 has ploughed its furrow without too much drama. The Barcelona testing has been as clear as mud (as ever) with the major excitement being a crash from which Fernando Alonso emerged shaken but unscathed. The conspiracy theories are pretty lurid, but there are lots of questions about the accident. I don’t know the answer, but I do know that the first rule of PR is never tell lies because you will be found out. McLaren knows this and so a lengthy explanation from the team about what happened is to be respected because they have nothing to gain from lies.
Hopefully I will be able to get up to full speed again in the coming days, although Chapter 14 of the aforementioned book is still writing itself. Onward…