I never think about death. Never. There are too many other things to think about than death these days. If I’m not with my kids, I’m working, and if I’m not working, I’m with my kids – there’s not much time left (let alone bandwidth) to be dwelling on the end.

I want to be cremated, definitely. The idea of being confined to a box underground feels too restrictive. I like high ceilings and open plans; I’d much rather float away on the breeze than be locked away. As for where that wind takes me … somewhere my kids don’t mind visiting. At that point, it’s not really about me, is it?