We Met in December

by Rosie Curtis

Publishing is a lot like being a swan. You look very sleek and posh from the outside, but there’s an awful lot of furious paddling going on underneath. And a lot of mud.

It’s not the anniversaries or the birthdays, it’s the way a stranger shakes their newspaper open, or a song on the radio at the nurses’ station, that reminds you of what you’ve lost.

You need to actually like the person you’re with, no’ just fancy the pants off them.’