THOUGHTS ON DEATH

I've just been reading some of Nora Ephron's thoughts on death in an extract from her book I FEEL BAD ABOUT MY NECK, published in today's DAILY MAIL. Nora, who died on Tuesday aged 71, was, of course, the award-winning screenwriter whose credits include WHEN HARRY MET SALLY and SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE.

It was thanks to her that my daughter won a luxury long weekend in New York (and took me with her!) a few years ago. How did that happen? One Saturday morning there was a quiz about WHEN HARRY MET SALLY on Capital Radio and Caroline rang in (it being her all-time favorite film back then), answered all the questions correctly - and WON first prize.

So I was sad to learn of Nora's death, but loved reading these thoughts of hers as she faced her own mortality: 'As for instructions for my funeral, I suppose I could come up with a few. For example, if there's a reception afterward, I know what sort of food I would like served: those little finger sandwiches from this place on Lexington Avenue called William Poll. And champagne would be nice. I love champagne. It's so festive.

But otherwise, I don't have a clue. I haven't even worked out whether I want to be buried or cremated - largely because I've always worried that cremation in some way lowers your chances of being reincarnated. (If there is such a thing.) (Which I know there isn't.) (And yet ... )

In a few minutes I will have finished writing this piece, and I will go back to life itself. Squirrels have made a hole in the roof, and we don't quite know what to do about it. Soon it will rain; we should probably take the cushions inside. I need more bath oil.

And that reminds me to say something about bath oil. I use this bath oil I happen to love. It's called Dr Hauschka's lemon bath. It costs about £15 a bottle, which is enough for about two weeks of baths if you follow the instructions. The instructions say one capful per bath. But a capful gets you nowhere. A capful is not enough. I have known this for a long time.

But if the events of the last few years have taught me anything, it's that I'm going to feel like an idiot if I die tomorrow and I skimped on bath oil today.

So I use quite a lot of bath oil. More than you could ever imagine. After I take a bath, my bathtub is as dangerous as an oil slick. But thanks to the bath oil, I'm as smooth as silk.

I'm going out to buy more, right now. Goodbye.'