I returned from Germany a week ago.

I am flying back there tonight, to bury the only man I ever looked up to.

This morning, I received the news that my mother’s only brother, and my only uncle, Lutz Barthel, had died in an accident.

Just 2 weeks ago, I sat with him in his favourite pub in Berlin, watching a football match on TV as Germany and Holland struggled to beat each other.

Just 10 days ago, he and I sat in my mother’s living room, discussing life and business, and his plans for retirement later this year.

At 63 years of age, he was so full of life, he made me (20 years his junior) feel old.

And now he is gone.

Life just isn’t fair.