MY house is full of humour, life is so funny, well it makes me laugh anyway.

I open my mail to find I am being urged to pay for my funeral by instalments, starting now as there is no time to lose!

Does that mean I will be buried by instalments?

Next letter, this asks me if I want to take out a life insurance policy; oh dear, it only goes up to 75. I am 82.

What I am relating to you is the true sequence of my letter opening.

The next letter thanks me for agreeing to purchase over 12 months, a financial magazine that is so essential to the management of my money etc. What money?

Sat in my chair, the ginger cat on my lap.I was reading Bleak House (Charles Dickens), thinking how lucky I am not to be living in the London he wrote about.

I have a gas fire, a valve wireless and a wind-up gramophone, no savings from my state pension.

I am not moaning, when I said lucky, I meant lucky.

Casting my mind back to the 1920s and 30s, remembering the misery and deprivation, I've nowt to moan about.

I read so many letters, written by moaning-minnies and know-alls, I thought I would like to share my hilarity with your readers.

BILL AUSTIN, Bute Road, Blackburn.