Births, deaths and marriages.

The funeral on Thursday came and went, and I think life at RF HQ is returning to normal. And by normal, I mean I went out to the pub, got drunk and generally revelled in not having to wear a suit.

Finlay came to the funeral. I think the last time I saw him was at his wedding and now it turns out he's a father! Bugger me. I remember when we still called him Finners and drove radio controlled cars around in his cul-de-sac in Liff. I look forward to meeting little Emily and holding her awkwardly until she cries and someone takes her away from me with a roll of the eyes and a suppressed tut.

If I was a sentimental type, I'd say something about beginnings-​endings-​circle-​of-​life-​yadda-​yadda, but fortunately I'm on the emotional mend and I think instead I'll just tell you a crap joke:

Two fish are in a tank. One of them says to the other: "Do you know how to drive this thing?"

I'm here all week.