I think eulogies are shit. How do you sum up a life in a few short paragraphs that portrays the role of that very person to everyone perched on the pews that terrible day? You can’t, I suppose, that’s the point of grief – it’s the lack of that wholeness of which that person brought to you. Yet, it’s at the eulogy, I think so anyway, that it begins, that steady minimising of a life once so full and expansive. First, it’s down to those few short paragraphs. Then a memory spoke over one too many at Christmas. Then, eventually, as those immediate relatives fall victim to their own minimising, a life becomes a few words. A name and a date...