I had to go out today to get some things for Allan's fish as one of them seems to be a bit off colour, so I popped into the local Tesco after visiting the pet store. I lasted about 15 miunutes, couldn't take anymore. I was walking about, talking to Allan and every corner I turned made me feel awful for some reason. I could feel myself breaking down more than once, so I got out as fast as I could. I reached the car, said to Allan "Well baby, I made it." Why am I ashamed to be seen to be upset? What is it about our society where men live shorter lives than women, partly because of all this "men don't cry" rubbish? I don't know, but I have to say that I cry and wail and be miserable on my own, in the house. Maybe I don't feel as bad if I'm grieving in private. I decided also to go to the florists and organise some new flowers for Allan, and that means I'll be going down to Barrhill tomorrow.