The Conversation

I've been thinking about children — properly, not the hazy version. There's a test in my bag that I bought next to a two-litre of bleach and a loo roll, and I've been walking past that chemist for a week.

What I picture is me doing it alone, at 2am, with the blackout blind, because you'll be at the studio finishing an invoice. That's the bit that frightens me — not the crying, the fact that I'd just crack on and not say anything.

Then let's put a date on it instead of a fear: the first Sunday of next month, after lunch, we actually sit down and talk children — and I'll say the plain thing before I've tidied it.