After a couple of appointments we sat sipping Hamiltinis on the balcony. I said, “by the way, I’ve started reading Wuthering Heights by one of the Bronte sisters. It’s on Amazon Prime books, free stuff, classics. I saw the movie decades ago, I love Kate Bush singing, ‘Heathcliff, it’s me a Kathy, come home now, oh oh oh oh ah oh a’”.

I vaguely knew the story as being written in the eighteenth century, people running around on t’ Yorkshire moors.

My husband enquired, “how did she know about the deep south, back then?”

My mind jumped to, being asked a question, need to please; I answered, “astonishing how at a young age, in a remote location, a knowledge of depths of human relationship.”

He persisted, “You know, French and Saunders did a sketch.”

“Ah, you’re thinking about, fiddly de mamie, Gone With the Wind“, I replied.

Much belly laughing followed.

“Well, they were well read”, he responded. “Hm, I agreed”.