There are times when the Vatican drives me madder than the Kremlin, the European Commission, FIFA or London’s cycle lanes. The new ruling that ashes from cremation cannot be kept at home or scattered over favourite places is borderline bonkers.

There was no more devout church-going Catholic than my mother, but when it came to planning for her death, she insisted on a simple, no-bother cremation after the funeral Mass. In due course, with the help of a cousin who was a Jesuit priest, her three sons laid her ashes to rest beside the grave of her husband.

My eldest daughter, Clare, was killed in a sky diving accident in Australia in 2004. She had lived with her mother, Carol Barnes, after Carol and I had amicably drifted apart. Clare was cremated after a Unitarian service attended mainly by her friends in Australia. We brought her ashes back home to England; most stayed with Carol but I was given a smaller amount, which I still have at home, not on ostentatious display but in a safe place.