To go off at a bit of a tangent, this evening I was watching a DVD of The Doors which Mr. Wicker had kindly lent me and I’ve been meaning to have a look at for months. (On the rare occasions I listen to pop or rock music it’s nearly always classic stuff from the 60’s.) I was struck by the unmistakable death-wish theme that runs through so many of their songs; it makes it seem almost inevitable that Jim Morrison died young. But then, I couldn’t help reflecting, surely this adolescent romantic death obsession (like Keats’ ‘half in love with easeful death) is instinctively correct. How much more inspiring to go down in flames like a comet while you’re still young, avoiding all the disillusionment, tiredness, disappointments and indignities of growing old. Maybe suicidal youth have it right after all? Though I can’t think of many, of any, ways of dying that are entirely attractive or without their degrading qualities. Perhaps the way Sir George Solti went -peacefully, in his sleep? But then he was about 80.