It continued snowing.The furniture hadn’t drifted away in a removal van.We kept Sam. We didn’t catch a taxito Heathrow. The hi-fi kept going.We didn’t fly twelve thousand miles.We stayed at home.My father continued working in the City.My mother lived.She called into the morning, staccato,‘SamSam, SamSam, Sam’ and he grew faton his diet of Kit-e-Kat.I remained the ‘I’ I’d got to kno ... (read more)