Once upon a time, there lived a very bored (but exceptionally diligent) paralegal. Everyday she would head to the office and stare at the same Excel spreadsheet. It contained a litany of things that really don’t belong in an excel spreadsheet – friends and family members, photographs, old records, engagement rings, a collection of saucy novels, a Constable painting, and boxes filled with the detritus of faded memories – theatre tickets, thank-you cards and wedding invitations.
Every day, as she populated this spreadsheet with yet another illegitimate child or meaningless trinket, she wondered…could someone not have tapped Mr Plonker (obviously his real name) on the shoulder and said, ‘now you miserable old bastard, if you think you’re shuffling off this mortal coil without a will, you’ve another thing coming’.
Apparently not. Clear ulterior motives aside, it’s hard to raise the subject of a loved one’s demise without resembling a vulture cloaked in good intention.
This may explain why every year thousands of people in the UK die intestate – the rich ones leaving a majestic mess for their families to sort out. According to a YouGov survey, over two thirds of us haven’t made a will, the repercussions of which are anything but trivial.
Dying intestate is to abandon autonomy over your assets. Forget bequests to your favourite charities or the stamp collection you promised cousin Colin – predetermined and inflexible rules govern which of your heirs inherit. Broadly, your spouse gets everything up to £250,000 and half of everything else above that amount. Therefore, particularly with smaller estates where there is a surviving husband or wife, the law is colder than a gravedigger’s bottom – children, unmarried partners and friends are not entitled to a penny.
With larger estates over £250,000, assets are distributed between your spouse and heirs. When no family can be found, the estate is treated as bono vacantia – an expression favoured by lawyers and stars to describe assets reverting to the Crown.
There’s something anachronistic to making a will. Fittingly, Dickens’ Bleak House provides fiction’s greatest cautionary tale on the subject. Families can be torn apart by death with legendary hatreds erupting over inheritance – in Bleak House, the case of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce only determined when the entire inheritance had been swallowed up by legal fees.
Depending on the complexity of the deceased’s affairs, it can sometimes take years to obtain a grant of probate. A friend of mine had his very own Jarndyce – having spent his entire working life untangling a particularly messy intestacy. This one was the perfect storm of unexpected death, no will, large family fortune and assets all over the world – the proverbial excrement didn’t just hit the fan – it hit a wind turbine, splattering work all over my friend’s desk for years to come. In the meantime, he had qualified, got married and started a family. Meanwhile, the family of the not-so-recently departed continued their suspension in legal limbo.
Perhaps ironically, finding out that I was pregnant last year was an usherer-in of my own mortality. While many mothers pick out colour swatches and fabric samples for the little one’s nursery, I embarked on three trimesters of legal nesting. Plans were made and lists were written. The good, bad and the ugly considered. Despite both being in our late twenties, my husband and I wrote detailed wills, letters of wishes, end of life directives and powers of attorney in case of lack of capacity. Being only too familiar with the vagaries of intestacy and interminable legal proceedings, nothing could be left to chance.
What should you consider when making your last living testament? You first need an idea of the size of your estate and your assets – even with smaller estates it’s worth making a will to avoid family rifts and complicated probates. You then need to think about your dependants and the type of provision you may wish to make for them. Being incredibly affluent brings its own problems (problems most of us wish we had) – you want to leave your children enough to be comfortable, but not so much as to lull them into bored complacency or defeated depression.
Your will is not the place for moral judgements or festering animosity – which is unfortunately not a view shared by everyone – including someone I knew. In the grand scheme of an otherwise ordinary life, one thing about the deceased stood out. His will. This otherwise loving and gentle father of four died with the stipulation that should any of his children ‘choose’ to be homosexual, they shouldn’t inherit. Trust me when I say that being divisive and downright douchey in a will won’t leave you with many fans. The same can be said for humour – Anthony Scott, in his last will and testament wrote: ‘To my first wife Sue, whom I always promised to mention in my will. Hello Sue!’
Finally, don’t do it yourself – getting professional help reduces the risk of bequests failing or provisions being void for uncertainty. Be prepared. Even if you don’t intend to go gentle into that good night – make sure that your loved ones embark on their journey without you as simply as possible.
Hanushka Toni is a freelance journalist and former private client solicitor
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