“In this world, nothing can be said to be certain except death and taxes,” said American statesman Benjamin Franklin.

So it seemed somewhat appropriate on Monday that my tax bill from HMRC popped through the letterbox just as we were heading out to the limousine which would carry us to St Peter and Paul’s chapel in Dundee to bid farewell to my oldest sister.

Our May – she was actually christened Mary, but like my late mum, after whom she was named, always preferred the abbreviated version – had lingered with dementia in Harestane Care Home for six years.

In many ways, we lost her long, long ago to that grim disease, and over time, as we watched a once feisty, sparky and fit woman descend into a very dark place which none of us can really know or understand, I came to understand why some folk talk about death as a blessing in certain circumstances.

With family abroad and the lengthy wait these days........

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