"I understand," I said, because I, too, have a child and know how unforgiving the world could be. So I listened, nodded, agreed, and sympathised while Laura poured out eighteen months of woe all around my living room floor. When she had finished, her arm still resting over her eyes, I said: "Laura, this has been a hideous ordeal for you. Now, before we hash it out- as one says- I have a song and we shall dance."
She shifted her arm slightly, frowning, but I pretended not to notice. Of course, after unloading an entire ocean-full of emotion in three hours, the last thing anyone would feel like doing is physical exercise. But that is precisely why it should be done.
I press play. "IT'S BOLD JAMIE," I yell over the music. "BY CARA DILLON, YOU'VE SEEN THAT SHOW RIGHT?"
And then we danced.
I write her a letter, just a few short lines, and suffer death ten thousand times
