Revelation of the blindingly obvious variety this morning. For most of my life I’ve been (sometimes painfully, sometimes not) aware that my being around doesn’t really make much of a difference to other peoples’ lives. OK, my family (especially Mr P) would be very sad if I wasn’t here, but life goes on and they’d get over it in time. I was a free agent: I could do pretty much what I wanted, when I wanted, and nobody seemed to care all that much. That’s not true any more. Now every decision has to include this little person that we made, who is utterly dependent on us, and who needs me more than anybody else in the world. It’s a strange feeling