Originally published in The Clifton Courier, November 29

The other day I got to thinking about my funeral.

And no, this thought isn’t borne out of deep, existential reflection. It’s not even from watching Beaches. No, this thought process was fuelled by a combination of extreme self-obsession and my controlling nature.

It came about when I was thinking about my hat, of all things. A dark brown Cattleman; I feel a strong connection to it. I’m yet to write my name in it, but it’s on my to-do list after a tense few hours (and five phone calls) without it after the races.

The thought struck me that it would look great on my casket one day (hopefully a long way into the future… although I do sometimes fantasise about humanity coming together to ensure my immortality) as a symbol of the person I was and the life that I lived; an object that encapsulated my very essence.

The idea of pre-determining what summed up me as person as opposed to leaving to someone else appealed to me. Self-obsessed? Yep. Controlling? You bet.

But you don’t want to get this wrong. Because sometimes people just don’t “get” you. For years people thought one of my sisters was a total diva who loved pink and make-up and whose life goal was to become a professional glamourzon. In truth, her favourite colour is green and she’s an absolute stinker who wants to stand up to the lions of environmental injustice. What people may think would sum you up might not actually fit the bill, so you have to take control yourself.

This got me thinking about other objects that would form an accurate representation of me as a person.

And because I had very little else to do with my Sunday afternoon (my goals for the day included getting out of bed, buying groceries and making a barley risotto, if that gives you any indication as to how I spend my weekends) I decided to write a list.

So here is a non-exhaustive list of things you would need should you want to construct a personal shine to me in your own home:

A lock of my hair: Preferably bound with a tasteful white ribbon, if available. The long, thin strands of my DNA and keratin are perhaps my most iconic assets. Being brown instead of the blonde my three sisters were gifted with, my hair is arguably one of the most significant factors that influenced my identity. It was the colour of poo while my sisters had “hair of gold”. You would think it would have made me develop a shining personality to compensate for this; instead I became a sarcastic show pony.

A belt buckle in the shape of a galloping horse: I bought this from a chain store as a teenager and still wear it today thanks to the leatherwork and friendship of Mr May. It’s now my trademark. You could say it’s a nod to my wild, free spirit bolting across the horizon towards greatness… or you could simply put it down to my childish fascination with horses because they are pretty.

A bunch of carrots: Carrots consist of about 40% of my diet – I like to have something to munch on and carrots seem like the easiest, least destructive option. Aesthetically it would be nice if the shrine carrots still had the leaves attached and were tied an earthy twine bow but, realistically speaking, slapping down a plastic kilo bag of them would be more appropriate.

An extra-strong black tea bag with a jar of ironbark honey: For obvious tea-related reasons.

A recording of the sound I make walking in my thongs, played on a loop: I have a particular rhythm. It’s a unique cycle of clicks, clacks and slaps that sounds from my thongs as I obnoxiously walk from place to place. Once you know it, it can be extremely helpful in locating me in the aisles of a hardware store.