Since the funeral on Monday, I’ve been mulling things over. One of these is the possibility that I have to rip up the kitchen floor. The whys and wherefores are irrelevant. It has to be addressed. As has the issue of what to do with the clutter. I mean, what if I were to shuffle off this mortal coil and all the – let’s call it stuff – was just left for someone else to deal with. I realise that I don’t want that. Let me ask myself again... No. I don’t. So I need to find a way to deal with this. And a bunch of that that’s wearing me down.

The urge to drop off the face of the earth is all-enveloping. Watch this space but don't hold your breath.