IF push came to shove, and you absolutely forced me to make a choice, I would have to say that I’m more interested in death than cafes.

I’ve nothing against cafes, mind, except the ones where people sit outside in full view of decent ratepayers. But, to be frank, I don’t lie awake at night worrying about cafes. By the same token, if asked to name my interests on a job application form, I don’t put: “Reading, hillwalking, death.”

Death is an interest that I keep to myself. Indeed, and oddly enough for someone who regularly pens angst-ridden postulations about yonder dread terminus (reader’s voice: “Is he on about buses again?”), I have never discussed death with anyone.

Though I don’t mind bringing it up with you, I don’t think it is appropriate for decent society. Besides, I’ve never really found the opportunity to position it in the conversation.

“Yes, but if you add raisins to the cake-mix, you give it more texture and sweetness.”

“I agree. Now, with or without raisins, who’s all afraid of dying?”

I’m as unlikely to bring up the subject of death in a common or garden cafe as I am to mention it at a children’s birthday party. But what if there was a cafe dedicated to death?

I say that in the full knowledge that there is indeed such a thing, if only in pop-up mode thus far. However, a crowdfunding exercise is under way to establish a permanent cafe in London, sometimes – as it happens – known to the rest of Britain as the Death Star.

Pop-up versions of death cafes have already, well, popped up in 30 different countries, but this is thought to be the world’s first permanent one — assuming it does actually come to pass.

According to the organisers, the cafe will increase awareness of death and help people “make the most of their (finite) lives”. They had to get that “finite” bit in, didn’t they? Depressing.

Not necessarily. One punter at a pop-up death cafe in Teeside has described the experience as “uplifting”. Another woman said she felt more alive. Mind you, she worked as an embalmer. I think there’s a line to be drawn between having a curiosity about death and being totally engrossed in the whole business.

All the same, if you’re interested in death and you like cafes, then this is your chance to have your cake and eat it. Who knows, you may look up and see the Grim Reaper dunking a blueberry muffin into his camomile tea.

Jon Underwood, who founded the first pop-up British death cafe (in his house) in 2011, says the aim of the new project is to reach out to those who struggle with the idea of dying. That’s a potential clientele of everyone.

He says: “We don’t like to talk about death. It’s almost eliminated from sight and the main way we consume death is through news, and it’s shocking and horrifying and weird. The death cafe is about reflecting how people really feel about it.”

Shocking, horrifying and weird, apart from sounding like a firm of solicitors, also sums up my perception of life. But Underwood believes citizens are “increasingly open to talking”.

So how do you go about that? The Teeside pop-up cafe had no set topic or speakers. Punters just sat round a table eating biscuits and quaffing beverages. Inevitably, given the surroundings, the subject of personal extinction came up.

But what is there to say about it? You might find you’ve exhausted the subject before you’ve methodically nibbled the icing off your Battenberg. Then the conversation dies.

Looked at another way, it’s the topic that never ends. Underwood told The Independent: “We don’t want to shove death down people’s throats. We just want to create an environment where talking about death is natural and comfortable.”

As an end in itself, this creates “authenticity and honesty among strangers”, and thus has a beneficial effect on the wider society, where we all live, for the time being at least.

If I were me, I’d still be tempted to keep my thoughts to myself. But that’s just me. I don’t like talking about politics, the opposite sex or religion. I do like coffee and philosophy, though, so perhaps once we’d exhausted death, we could widen the subject-matter to include, you know, life.

The trouble is that, while life is arguably an interesting topic, it’s pretty much been done to death.