Henry’s wife, Kelly, and her mother, Coral, are both professional writers. They were both quite clear in pointing out to me that the diatribes and books that I write are easy, in comparison with novels or sitcoms that require plot and characterisation and dialogue. They also emphasised that readers like working things out for themselves rather than being told what to think. I suppose my medical training got me into didactic habits. I have a lot to learn.

Meg and I visited our son and his family in Melbourne, Australia, for a couple of weeks. We had only just got over the jet lag by the time we had to come back – and then we went through it all over again. It never used to be like this. I fear that for the first time in my life I have to put something down to my age. This is not a good precedent.

There comes a time in a patient’s recovery when professionally guided (as opposed to Anonymous Fellowship supported) treatment should be complete. I see no value in getting patients to have session after session on continuing psychotherapeutic intervention. The only thing that this achieves is to pay the rent of the therapist.

In my experience this year, when one door closes another door closes. If any door is going to open, I myself have to open it. I accept that. Reality is tough and I have no choice other than to live in it. Platitudes (I hear them every day) are no help whatever.

Of course I shall be glad – honoured – to help her. My challenge will be in trying to show her why I disagree with other, equally well-meaning, colleagues who keep plying her with pharmaceutical drugs.