Our first whistle stop was Bristol, to attend my niece’s wedding. It was a fun and emotional affair. The bride looked gorgeous, the groom dashing. Both looked ectastic. The only variance from the ceremonial norm was the string trio in the church – the viola player hadn’t bothered to turn up. I advised my brother to demand a 25% discount.
When my niece was 15, my first born brother thought it was high time that his daughter knew I was gay. ‘Oh Dad,’ she said. ‘I’ve known for years.’ She’s one cool niece.