I went to mass today.

A requiem mass for my friend Lucy Westmore at the Catholic Church on the Fulham Road. I loved Lucy Westmore. Everyone did. I was lucky enough to know her for more than 30 years and work with her at two different places. She was unlucky enough to have a wonderful life cut short by cancer. Lucy was the only person I’ve ever met who managed to be intelligent, bohemian and devoutly Catholic. She could never understand why I’d renounced my “faith” and ridiculed it at every opportunity. I could never understand why she hadn’t. I remember telling her that this particular hymn was the most ludicrous of all. Praise him, praise him? Only the most conceited God would want this sung to him. It was the opening hymn as we entered the church, so if Lucy was having one last laugh at my expense then praise her, praise her.