My Great-Uncle died, quite unexpectedly, in 1932. He caught a cold, he neglected it, and he went out like a lamb. It is true that some time previously his prostate had been operated on, an area of the body where the medical profession does not show to advantage. I rememberg my Great-Aunt in a black flurry of weeping all through the funeral procession and ceremony. It is always the right thing to do, if only one can, and by the evening she was quite herself again, giving orders freely and restating moral implications.

Robert Aickman, in his autobiography, The Attempted Rescue.