When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.

I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?

She shrugged another plump shoulder. “I never listened to Porter when he got going.” Ah. At last. The secret to a successful marriage.

He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.

Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.

He went through the cupboards, found the olive oil, and started upstairs again. He glanced down at the green and gold label and had to bite back a laugh at the words Extra Virgin. That about summed it up.

He never lied to me. I just didn't ask the questions I didn't want to know the answers to.