I have reduced my music CD holdings to very few, with the rest packed up in book boxes and ready to go. That leaves me with a full-height 60-cm IKEA Billy bookcase to unload, along with six shelf inserts for CD storage.

At one level, I’m still a bit amazed that it’s come to this. Until about four years ago, my habit was to accumulate all the recorded music I could, and never let go of anything. In the aftermath of Edmund’s death, a switch flipped, and I realized that I wanted much of it gone — just out of the house and off my hands. A wide range of music that I love was no longer appealing in recorded form; I would happily pay to hear it live, or listen with someone else, but it doesn’t appeal when I’m alone.

Also, my tastes have changed. I literally don’t care if I never hear the voice of Bob Dylan ever again.