It’s rather odd. My mum’s death has taken on a slightly absurd aspect these days. When my dad asks where she is, I still say she’s in Paris. But when he asks me what she’s doing over there, rather than the usual story (taking care of her sick brother) I’ll say she is running a very famous flea circus. Then I do some of the acts for him – putting my head in the lions mouth, the trapeze, the high wire.. Oh it makes us laugh!” (v)