We spend an awful lot of time and money memorialising our loved ones. There is the gravestone, obviously, and then perhaps plaques on trees or park benches or seats in football grounds, plus other stuff such as pendants made from ashes and so on. But for me it’s always going to be the small stuff that matters.
I lost a dear friend six years ago. I treasure his sturdy flip-flops, although they ravage my feet summer in, summer out. I treasure his stripy dressing gown, but it’s getting threadbare, so I’ve had to semi-retire it. I treasured his garish suitcase until its rubber bottom perished and ruined a carpet. It had to go. Sorry, Guy.
