Today marks ten years since the events I record here happened. I still remember it so vividly: the spur of the moment decision; catching the bus to Crewe; the roll down the lane to Weston; and then those men telling me one of my best friends had gone. It cut me up quite a bit. It just seemed so unfair that Rich would not enjoy the long, full life he deserved. For days after, I didn’t know what to do or think. It still feels wrong, it still upsets me, ten years on. I think this is, in part, what occasioned my reflections a couple of days ago. But what can you do? Life goes on. I think it’s important to mark the occasion, but I better not get too down about it Simmo wouldn’t have wanted that. I’ll be thinking of him today though, and wondering what he’d make of my life here in London.