Sublime

By the time I was twelve, my brother and sister were in their twenties and lived away, first at university then in London, where they worked. Every few weeks they would come home trailing cigarette smoke, casually swearing and starting arguments about politics. My sister, who worked in advertising, might bring a copy of Vogue which I could look at

Let It Be

wiry-spry

and “Turn Me On”

maudlin.