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I would not want you to think I have been brooding, or that I have any serious regrets about the path I have chosen – or indeed that I would change anything, especially anything to do with Rob and me. That’s not it, at all.

The problem is that it takes much longer to write this down than it does to think it. What starts as an image, a momentary insight, stretches to half a page.

But, some words popped into my head last night, a passing comment from Eve over lunch on Sunday, that she had been very sorry about what had happened between her parents – and as I was thinking about this, I had one of those moments, when the ordinary fog of life clears, and you peer over the abyss, into darkness, or into light, as the case may be.

The image that came into my head was this: it’s a slow-motion crash, this divorce business. You feel the hard impact, immediately; but then, for ages afterwards – months, years – the wheels go on spinning, smoke unwinds from the overturned wreck, and you have these flashbacks, these moments of panic when you ask yourself shit! is there anyone still in there, trapped?

And then you go on living.

Accidents happen, in life. We bear our responsibility, as we must and as we can. And we learn that life, if we are fortunate, can still be good.

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