I have just discovered this, tucked away on my other blog. Apparently I wrote it about Christmas time. My memory is gone to rot:

After four and a half hours lying awake on the longest night of the year, Damien Wardrop for the first time faced up to the inescapable fact that his mother was immortal.

So you can imagine his shock when the Nursing Home rang the next morning to break the news that Mrs Wardrop had just choked to death on her breakfast cornflakes – although it was several days before they admitted the precise circumstances. “She passed away peacefully,” the nurse lied at the time. “Such a sweet old lady.”

“It depends what you mean by immortal,” one part of Damien’s brain repeated, while another part of his mental system concentrated on arrangements for the funeral. He couldn’t imagine it would be a popular occasion because his mother died a week short of her ninety sixth birthday. All her known friends had predeceased her, so there was just the family – Damien himself (although he would have gladly skipped the occasion), Aunt Freda – who had not talked to her sister since a falling out over a young pilot killed in the Battle of Britain, and of course Uncle Phil, currently visiting one his sons in Perth, Australia. He returned by the first plane and insisted the coffin was re-opened so he could grieve properly.

“Are you going to sue the Home,” Uncle Phil asked on the phone, “about the cornflakes?” Damien couldn't think what to say. Up until now he had not been allowed to take family decisions.