Summary
The name of this new column could hardly be more apt this week, as - even by the neurotic standards of my life, which lead me to regard almost anything, from losing a fountain pen upwards, as a crisis- something has just occurred with the potential to supply me with worries for the next 20 years at least. From what I can make out, raising a son is a matter of going on fishing trips, throwing baseballs, failing to communicate properly for about four decades, and eventually having a tearful deathbed reunion.
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Extract
I Need a Fishing Rod and a Bassoon, Fast
The name of this new column could hardly be more apt this week, as - even by the neurotic standards of my life, which lead me to regard almost a...
See the full content of this document
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