At the table next to mine, mother and son are sitting together and chatting over warm drinks. It's not polite to overhear conversations like this still they're sitting right here and I can't help it. The child must be around twelve years old and has a Richard Harris like wise look about him. He is discussing his day with his mother with such serious intent, you can see how she could have slipped him a secret or two to him, the kind she would have told her girlfriends, had she still been in touch with them.

He speaks, with certain ease, about how he was unable to sleep the previous night so he got up and decided to get himself a glass of water. He spends a few extra seconds describing how cold the water was and how much he enjoyed drinking it and she is listening, both her hands cupping her chin, amused as though he were talking of his plans of flying to the moon.

I hope that when I have one of my own kids, I can have a relationship like this with them.