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I used to think loneliness was just something that affects elderly people. A frail old lady sitting in an armchair. Not someone in their forties with 147 Facebook friends.
As much as I love my friends, I can’t quite join in their conversations about children and husbands and home improvements. At my birthday lunch, school catchment areas were mentioned and it was like a black hole everyone disappeared into, until the waiter rescued us with grated Parmesan and the large pepper grinder.
What I want to know is, when did busy become better? When did a jam-packed diary become a measure of success?
