A Will for the Rich. The Retired. And… well, you.

*The information in this blog relates to England and Wales only

Turning 30 was… sobering.

My brittle vegan bones started soft-quitting, and contrary to my annual Insta-post, I wasn’t flirty nor thriving.

I’d been raised to believe I’d be sipping cosmopolitans in the big city, round-robining taboo conversations with my best girlfriends, and confidently declaring that 30 is the new 20 whilst romanticising at least one exciting incident per week.

But this wasn’t in the stars, or the group chat. Think more student debt, Brexit woes, and life admin that definitely wasn’t on the syllabus.

And if I’ve learned anything from that life admin, it’s that it ages like school friends left on read.

Speaking of ageing, which you absolutely are, I’m afraid we’re about to drag the vibes six feet under.

Let’s talk Wills.

And spoiler: you need one.

But stay with me (at least until you sign yours).

I too, once shared a visceral reaction to the thought of acknowledging my own death. I mean, morbid much?

And it’s giving anti-social. I get it.

A friend of mine once asked, mid-bottomless brunch, who’d get Monica Geller’s apartment if she died, and everyone looked at her like she’d ordered tap water.

We tend to associate those who need Wills with people distinctly past their prime, dressed in tired mothball-scented suits and slumped in leather Chesterfields. Which scratches the surface about as much as a microfibre cloth.

Naturally, it isn’t something most of us want to consider, and the last thing our generation wants to do is cough up a few hundred quid for a document we’ll never get to use. But that would be selfish.

The reality is, most people only meet Private Client law when it is introduced by the Grim Reaper, and grief makes a terrible icebreaker.

When you do die (and I fear it’s on the cards), and if you die intestate, you’ll only add to your loved ones’ grief by dumping them with admin sent straight from hell.

And no one mourns the Wicked, or the Will-less, with any great enthusiasm.

Right. Three dull and dry (but dopamine-delivered) reasons you need a Will. I’ll keep it punchy.

3. Decide who gets what:
   1. Money
   2. Property
   3. Possessions
4. Protect your person (or your chosen people):
   1. No Will means they could be left with nada
5. Save your loved ones from an administrative nightmare:
   1. Stress
   2. Delays
   3. Thousands in legal fees

Even if you think you have nothing now, you’re future proofing.

And now, as a thank you for making it this far, here are my favourite unhinged (and low-key most important) reasons.

1. Make one last petty point: leave someone nothing, 5p, or your entire collection of Tupperware lids. No matching containers, of course.
2. Decide who inherits your pets and plants: Karen will drown the monstera, and your dog will be depressed.
3. Pass on your air fryer: With great power comes great responsibility.
4. Protect your digital legacy (and your dignity): nominate someone to wipe your browser history and curate your posthumous socials. B&W filters only.
5. Create a funeral playlist: Lana for tears, Doechii for chaos. Your call.

Where there’s a Will, there’s a way.