It’s going to be quiet here for a little while again as of now.
Regular readers may recall that a while ago, before I was hospitalised, I went off-grid when I got some terrible news about the man I will forever refer to as “my little brother”, Llyr.
Back in 2005, after a series of truly terrifying episodes when we lived together, Llyr was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour. He was in his mid-twenties at the time. No, you’re right, that’s no age at all.
The news I got last year was that we shouldn’t expect him to see 2018 out. Stubborn little loveable sod that he was, he defied that.
But on Sunday morning I got the call I’ve been dreading for thirteen years.
My best friend Llyr, my little brother Llyr, had passed away.
I need some time to compose myself and some words that do the man justice. It’s taken me this long to come up with this, so bear with me.