Every friendship goes through ups and downs. Dysfunctional patterns set in, external situations cause internal friction, you grow apart and then bounce back together.

In the city, I wake bolt upright in the small hours, convinced that intruders are marauding through our apartment despite Swiss bank-style security arrangements.

We invest less in our friendships and expect more of friends than any other relationship. We spend days working out where to book for a romantic dinner, weeks wondering how to celebrate a partner or parent's birthday, and seconds forgetting a friend's important anniversary.

Only those with skin as thick as elephant hide can hope to sail through their teens unscathed by self-doubt and bouts of depression.

Reading a book you are not enjoying is a torture not to be undertaken without a reward. I leave plays at the interval, too!

As a species, we tend to be doers, forever shaping and reshaping the world to better suit our purposes.

There are more than enough people with serious mental issues who really do need professional help without all the other Toms, Dicks and Harriets rushing to the therapist's couch.