IT’S CURIOUS how people slip away. When my aunt died at five in the morning last week, I had been saying the rosary for her and, in a way, with her, in her hospital room. I asked whether she wanted to go on and she did her best to nod. I returned to my seat ... then the nurse came in, looked at her and asked, “When did it happen?” “Nothing’s happened,” I said crossly. But it had. So I am the twit whose aunt can die in front of her, without her even noticing.

I can’t say I’ve always embraced the opportunity to say the rosary; I found it an ordeal. But on occasions like this it’s brilliant …