WHEN the razor blades arrived, I knew that I would have to act.

No, it wasn’t a veiled threat from an angry neighbour, it was just my regular subscription order from Mr Harry, the friendly supplier of men’s grooming products (I use the phrase loosely). On reflection, I realised that there were a few things that turned up at regular intervals, and maybe it was time to keep a record of these details, in case anyone else ever needed to tidy up the loose ends of my life.

Thinking about it, there is the potential for further confusion with other details that are part of my regular household duties. This includes, passwords and contact numbers for banking, details of various insurances, the minutiae of injection dates for two humans and two canines, and the passwords for various television channels, (which they claim to store, but which mysteriously disappear at regular intervals).

Obviously, I already do have this information, and other details essential to the running of modern life, safely recorded on my computer, phone and backup storage, but, and this is a big “but”, unless you know my password, how would you get to see this information. Actually, I’m sure that there is a way, but in case you are called on to help, my password is an obvious combination of my mother's Co-op dividend number from 1958, and the letters from my Medical Card number from the same era. Please don’t lecture me about computer security systems, I have only just stopped hiding the front door key under a flowerpot!

So, I decided to store all the information in a ring binder allowing easy updates, but, more importantly, clearly understandable for my wife. Once I started, I was alarmed to find just how much ‘secret’ information is necessary to carry out the simplest of tasks like the ordering of repeat medication or checking the balance on my supermarket loyalty card.

I proudly showed my ‘book’ to my wife, whilst she was slicing up our excess stock from our bumper crop of cucumbers, with her Japanese Steel kitchen knife, explaining that the information would be essential if I was unavailable for any reason. I thought she hesitated just a little too long before continuing the precision chopping with renewed vigour.

The book is finished, but I haven’t told her where it is hidden.