David at the end of some huge guy ropes, anchoring the television mast to the hillside.

Anchoring is something he’s good at. I’ve been floating away on a wave of despair and he’s held on. He’s stopped me from floating off and held me into place with as much emotional strength as these guy ropes have physical strength.

Today, out in the sunshine on the moor, it’s almost seemed like “normality”. I reckon that’s good, don’t you?

Last year, I was talking up my little black leather jacket.