This week Mr Brown has finally gone public with a donor story that doesn’t include Peter Hain, Harriet Harman or George Osborne. His latest policy idea is that everyone in Britain should automatically be placed on an organ donor register and be forced to opt out if they don’t want to donate their organs when they die. No, this is not about granny leaving her old Wurlitzer to the local museum. This is about passing on the gift of life when we no longer need it. As someone who is already on the register, but has recently learned that this is not necessarily legally binding unless you give your next of kin strict instructions of your wishes, I think this is one of the more sustainable ideas the Government has had. In fact, it is the ultimate in sustainable living. How can I champion the virtues of used goods if I disagree with this?

We are a nation of hoarders. What is it about clinging onto artefacts of sentiment that help us remember occasions, people and pets with greater clarity? There is nothing about the plastic beaker thrown at me by Suede’s Brett Anderson at a 1994 gig that will physically transport me back there. My camera did a far better job of capturing the moment. My husband-to-be gently helped me to achieve detachment with his sympathetic whisper of “It’s me or the cup.” I admit I was a shameless hoarder until he stubbed his baby toe on one of the boxes filled with junk I never looked at but couldn’t bear to be parted from one too many times. Now I can’t bear having it around. I can’t bear the clutter, and I can’t bear the thought of some poor ebayer being denied their treasure when I have a box full of trash going mouldy in the garage.

The same goes for my body. I would like to think that if I was untimely transported to the next world, my nearest and dearest would take more comfort from the fact that a small part of me was living on in others, than the thought of my organs being eaten for supper by wiggly woo and friends. I know I would if that fate befell one of them. The old adage, ‘you can’t take it with you’ should also be applied to parts of our bodies that won’t be of any use to us, but could mean the difference between life or death for someone else.

Most things we own serve a purpose for a finite amount of time – whether that’s because they’re genuinely useful like tweezers or a computer, or whether they help us to keep alive a memory of a time gone by. But there comes a point when we all have to let go and admit that some things have outlived their usefulness. And if we need a kick up the rear by a broken toe or Gordon Brown, then so be it.

Bookmark It