'The truth is the more my daughter reads about Tragics, the more I identify with them'

Friday night, and my eldest daughter is home before leaving soon to do a master’s in cognitive neuropsychology at Edinburgh.

“I’m terrified,” she says, “bit of a leap from an undergrad in languages. And even more of a bloody leap from waitressing for a year. My brain isn’t ready for it.”

“You’re just knackered,” I say, “from doing evening-shifts full-time. You and psychology is a natural fit. You’ll be fine.”