As we get to towards the end of the third year since LB died my rage is reaching levels I had no idea existed. Probably in direct proportion to the mountain of shite that continues to unfold at Sloven towers. Despite enough evidence to sink the Harmony there is still no action.

Sloven, and everyone else who should have acted and hasn’t, has now stolen a further thousand days of our lives. 1000 days… during which we’ve been unable remember LB properly.

I hate the word grieve. I don’t want to ‘grieve LB’. And I’ve a serious dislike of ‘models of grief’.  I want to think about LB. I want the space to remember, in intricate detail, everything about him. His love, laughter, being, touch and smell. His sense of humour. His astonishing, duck like hair. His happiness, thoughts and reflections. His dislike of Simon Mayo and love of all things human rights. But I can’t.

I’m enraged that, like so many others, the remaining pieces of our hearts, those pieces that somehow hang in there despite the harrowing and incomprehensible death of our dude, are battered beyond recognition by state actions and non actions.

Inexcusable. And barbaric.

1000 days… And no end in sight.