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Not a particularly busy day today – rather laid back in fact. As we drove towards Cambridgeshire for a hospital appointment the flat and dreary landscape (especially this time of year) provided a suitably depressing backdrop to the discussion on the radio which was all about the rights and wrongs of folk topping the’selves when they don’t feel well or because the cat has died. Had you been in that frame of mind and were contemplating a jump, this combination would have surely provided the push.

While we are on the subject of death, I had thought it would have been nice to have had my ashes scattered at various locations around Dorset but my very practical wife has come up with a much better idea. We both share a love for the village of Moreton, Dorset. With that in mind and having spent some lovely time paddling there at the ford across the River Frome, she suggested that it would be quite appropriate that when we have both snuffed, the guardians of the ash mix should take the urn to the middle of the little bridge across the river and chuck us in so we can both have a proper swim.

 I’m up for it big time – why? Ever since I was a young man I have been a connoisseur of jellied eels - the very thought of being tossed of and becoming an ingredient in my favourite food makes me squirm with anticipation. Who needs heaven? – this’ll do me fine. Night, night chappies!