You could be dead tomorrow. We all could - but should you really make others suffer because you were too lazy to sort your stuff, even during weeks of months of a quarantine? If you didn’t death clean during the virus - what is your excuse?” The following essays are discoveries I have made about becoming very old—some of the discoveries were hard to accept, but many of them have been rather wondrous. In thinking and writing about them, my mind wandered to often pleasant and funny memories—and some not so pleasant or fun—that I hope will entertain you and take you to places and times you may never have experienced. Anyhow, now it’s gin and tonic time and I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a whole week. It’s going to be so much fun. I can hear Lola’s voice, hear the ice cubes clinking in her glass:

From the bestselling author of The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, here is a charming and humorous book about embracing life at any age.

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Ageing is often difficult, but it doesn’t have to be if you approach it in a way that isn’t too filled with drama or dread. And if you can find a way to make ageing itself into an art, where you are creative in how you approach each day, perhaps it can be a little easier,’ says 86-year-old author Margareta Magnusson. In her latest book The Swedish Art of Ageing Well Magnusson shares her advice on the best ways to embrace life, age joyfully and accept change. She reflects on her life as an artist and mother of five, and suggests we should not live in fear of death but rather focus on connecting with our loved ones and appreciating beauty. The publishers, Canongate, have kindly let me share some of Magnusson’s musings here: The year I was born, the life expectancy for a Swedish woman was a little over sixty-six years and for a Swedish man was a little under sixty-four. My mother died at sixty-eight; she liked to follow the rules, while my father died at eighty-one—I’m sure he would have lived much longer if my mother had been there with him. During the summers when Lola and I were growing up, many who lived in the city moved out to cottages in the countryside, where they led easier lives and inhaled fresh air into their lungs. The cottages were often off by themselves, near enough to go to the little village to buy your food and basic provisions but not very close to other people. Being so far away from the crowded city was delightful, even though you of course occasionally longed for your friends.The idea is that we should not leave a mountain of crap behind for our loved ones to clean up when we die. Why would your family and friends want to take time out of their busy lives to clean up your mess when you clearly could have taken care of it yourself? Remember, your kids and your other loved ones may want some of your stuff when you are gone—not all of your stuff. So, we can help them narrow down the selection. We went on to spend our entire school life together, even though we chose different academic focuses—I explored art and design and Lola went to secretarial school. Lola had three great kids, and I had five. When I got married, I chose a man who would have to travel the world for his profession: we lived in the United States, Singapore, Hong Kong, and Sweden of course. No matter where we ended up on the planet, Lola and I always stayed in touch. But for this, she has a consolation—a good one. “Eat chocolate. And take a gin and tonic with your friend!”

None of these activities are extraordinary, I know. You were expecting Swedish secrets, and yet the secrets of aging well and happily are in finding ways to make your routines dear to you. I may not have a choice in how long they will take me to do or whether I will even be alive a few weeks from now, but I do have the power to decide how to approach my daily activities. Most days—not all days, but most days—I’m able to see my daily routine, my daily life, as kärt besvär. In writing this book I have tried to include advice I myself needed as time marched forward, as history flapped by, as I stood in the middle of my own strange life and sometimes felt like a lonely pioneer, sometimes the happiest woman on earth, sometimes just completely clueless. A humorous book of insights and stories about growing old in today’s world by the NYT bestselling author of The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. I remember her being tall and thin, and that she almost always wore a dark blue dress with little white dots. I myself almost always wore a sensible skirt and sweater, which probably is why I remember her much cuter, prettier dress. Not because I wanted one too; it would not have suited me—but it was perfect for Lola. I was sure I wanted to be her friend.In her first book, Margareta Magnusson shared with the world the practical Swedish tradition of döstädning, or ‘death cleaning’ — clearing out unnecessary belongings so others don’t have to it for you. Now, unburdened by baggage (emotional and actual), she is able to focus on what makes each day worth living, and reveals her discoveries about growing older — some difficult to accept, and many rather wondrous. She reflects on her idyllic childhood on the west coast of Sweden, the fullness of her life with her husband and their five children, and learning how to live alone. Throughout, she offers advice on how to age gracefully, such as: don’t be afraid to wear stripes, don’t resist new technology, and let go of what doesn’t matter. So, yes, while I will always recommend continuing to death clean—your loved ones will thank you—remember that the process of death cleaning is ultimately in service to two larger points: to be less afraid of the idea of death, for it comes for all of us, and to remember that after you’ve death cleaned, no matter how ancient you become, there are always new discoveries, new mind-sets through which to see your life and the experiences you have had. And new and familiar pleasures to be had every day—even as the final visit of Mr. (or indeed Miss!) Death approaches. You must have fun,” the artist mandates. How does she do this? Ideally, on the dance floor. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t walk very well. Otherwise, I would have still been dancing a lot,” she tells us.