I found myself last Sunday lunch time in front of a hot, blazing fire

at our local village pub where it was very busy and there was a definite

feeling of pre-Christmas merriment in the air.

In the window seat nearby, gathered around their small table, was a

group of some four friends, all in their latter years, who I believe had been

talking about their lives, their respective states of health and

and how much longer they reckoned they had left. 

This cheerful dialogue between husbands and wives moved on to making their

Wills and how the various prospects of those left behind would be placed.

Eventually, one of the old guys turned to his wife and announced confidently,

"When I die, I'm gonna leave it all to you," my dearest.

" You already do, you bloody-lazy bastard!" was the swift reply.