Never get mixed up in a Welsh wrangle. It doesn't end in blows like an Irish one, but goes on forever.
Where can we hide in fair weather, we orphans of the storm?
'I will not stand for being called a woman in my own house' she said.
It is easy, retrospectively, to endow one's youth with a false precocity or a false innocence; to tamper with the dates marking one's stature on the edge of the door.
After all, damn it, what does being in love mean if you can't trust a person.
My father and I were never intimate in the sense of my coming to him with confidences or seeking advice. Our relationship was rather that of host and guest. Perhaps host and guest is really the happiest relation for father and son.