As a farmer’s wife I decided I’d like to be buried right in the centre of our biggest flattest field with a fabulous view over several farms. I told my family to bury me (using a fore-end loader to dig the grave) and plant an oak sapling on top, so that every time my son ploughed, drilled, cultivated and harvested this field he’d have to go around me so I’d be remembered (and probably cursed!) for my independence and bloody mindedness.