Just at the moment I’m not feeling too bad about Trev’s death.  I’m OK with it – I can bear it.

But I am finding it very hard to care an awful lot about anything.

Obviously I still love my wife, my children, my family – that hasn’t changed in the slightest.

But everyday considerations such as work or money, I’m struggling to give a damn about.

I’ll be 40 in two months – an event which, previously, I’d have been planning some kind of massive week-long celebration for.  But friends have recently begun to ask: “What’s the plan for your 40th?” and there isn’t currently one.

And the only thing that bothers me about that is the fact that I don’t care.  It’s my 40th.  So what?  Who cares?

Grief would seem to have turned me into a nihilist.  Let’s hope it’s only temporary.

Actually, it’s not quite true that I don’t care.  Ironically, I do get very cross at the moment about ignorant bigots who don’t care about the unhappiness and misery of other human beings.

The government, for example.  And the Daily Mail.

Time for bed, I think.  Let’s hope tomorrow is a better day.

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