The Black Dog has paid me a visit ... but now he has gone

For reasons that will become clear, I have been feeling somewhat depressed for the past few days, but after a good night's sleep the depression seems to have passed.

After the very interesting but somewhat tiring Connections UK 2016 conference last week, I had to go to the funeral of a very good friend on Friday. I had known Rob Morris for over eighteen years, and we were of a similar age. I met him when I joined my Mother Lodge, and almost from our first meeting we seemed to hit it off. He was a man who was a credit to Freemasonry, and I was proud to be able to call him Brother ... and honoured to be addressed as such by him. He was generous by nature and gave of his time and support without hesitation. In Freemasonry we say that a man should aspire to live respected and die regretted, and my friend certainly met – and exceeded – that criteria.

Sunday was the anniversary of my mother's death. She died on 9th September 2002 as a result of complications that arose as a consequence of an operation she had to have after she broke her leg. My last memory of my mother was seeing her sitting up in a hospital bed laughing as Sue and I left after a visit.

These two events, coming so close to each other as they did, rather took the emotional wind out of my sails. It made me rather too contemplative about the meaning and fragility of life, and led to a feeling of depression. That has now passed, and I now realise that I was being rather emotionally self-indulgent, and that life is for living, not worrying about things that you cannot change.