Death awaits us. Patiently. It is in no hurry. But time rushes on. We get older. ‘You’ll soon be more than seventeen,’ sang the popular Danish soft pop singer, Annette Klingenberg, when as a 15-year-old I lay sunbathing on the lawn at my parents’ summer house. That was in 1977. The song was disconcerting then. It is no less disconcerting today, when it seems only a moment ago that Klingenberg was in the top ten. My birth certificate tells a different story. Fortunately the song is scarcely ever heard any more – especially if you refrain from listening to the Danish radio programme giro 413, which on Sunday afternoons plays listeners’ requests, evergreen selections for the older audience, and more than anything else provides a reminder of the proximity of death.