I still remember the sunny days of 1975, 6, 7 and 8, before the wind changed and the baby monster was born. She came into the world like a raging tempest, a spirit with sheer determination to win races after rheumatic fever and use her face to play hockey.

She crawled through hell to have children and those children calmed her storm, into a cool summer breeze; a proud mum; and an empathetic paediatrician. But every so often, when swathes of warm moist air meets cold, the tempest reawakens with shocking home videos of baby teeth pulled out with string or nerf gun darts, WTF!

Song for Emily this day

She Don't Use Jelly, The Flaming Lips 1993:

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