And we had a genuinely lovely evening.

I made the chicken thing with the rice.

Julian was quiet and a bit stunned and ate two helpings.

We watched something.

At about half past nine he came into the kitchen and said, “Mom, did you see her go across the floor?” and I said yes, and he said, “It didn’t make any noise,” and went to bed.

I sat up until eleven with a glass of wine I do not normally have on a Wednesday, and I did a thing that I would describe, if I were being generous to myself, as reflecting on my son’s character, and which was in fact composing.

I was composing how I would tell it.