In the same way that how exactly they choose a new Pope, what makes people like Marmite and why no-one can grasp exactly what a Higgs’ Bosun does are each incapable of comprehension, the precise nature of what occurs immediately after each negative patient care outcome (otherwise colloquially called ‘death’) remains a mystery to the bulk of human kind. But, as with all mysteries (apart from the Marmite one, of course) there is at least one person with the answer to this eons old confusion – who, in one of those coincidences that can lead to premature baldness and a craving for slightly over-ripe bananas is also called Higgs.

Higgs (he has a first name but refuses to use it because it rhymes with a rather unpleasant proprietary rat poison) lives in a small but adequately appointed cave on the western shores of the Isle of Arran.

Here he receives each departed’s former life essence, in a daily delivery by the ever-reliable British Postal service who believe they are providing their resident Hermit with the daily edition of Reiki News and the Yoga Gazetteer.

On receipt, Higgs unpacks each residue and places it on a two by two micro plinth (which anyone visiting would think comprises one of Higgs locally famous collection of novelty beer-mats) and asks the departed to complete its form-form.

Continue reading here: Choosing the Right Form #writephoto