Rotten news last week on two counts; my lovely in-laws lost their neighbour of about 40 years suddenly. A shame. Only met him once or twice but he was a good man.
And someone I knew only briefly at university, but who several close friends were much closer to, sadly took his own life last week as well. Very sad. He was a memorable character from those days and a specific night at La Belle Angele in Edinburgh's Cowgate sprang to mind when I heard of his passing: A jumper. A smart ass Indie arsehole (not the chap in question). A smirk. A glass. A fight. Another friend tossed down the stairs (the last person I'd have expected that to happen to). And a bloodied demand to the bouncers for said jumper back. And the night ended with laughter. RIP Olly Lassman.
But there is also good news. Looks like, all going to plan, I'll be an uncle next May. I'm ecstatic about this.
Back to the bloody mess on the page.