A good friend of mine once told me a story about an ex best friend and her who’d had a bitter and upsetting fall out. I don’t know why the story always stuck in my mind – maybe I resonated with it a bit. Either way, we were walking through the train station, when she told me that she had recently read an article comparing the turmoil of falling out with a best friend, to grief. The article discussed the importance of recognising that a major relationship in your life has effectively died. “As with any death”, she told me, “you need to mourn it.” I always dress in black anyway.