I think I’m going to have to retire from the fray. And by fray, I mean world. I just don’t fit in any more. This is not something I believe personally, by the way – it seems to be something others have decided for me.

I don’t have a tribe, you see. I am demographically homeless. I mean, sure, there’s the perimenopause gang but that’s too large for people to cope with any more. Yet, a great fear is abroad. Or rather, very much not abroad. Very much here, right around you, in as small a circle as we can each move in. For the drive to define everyone seems to be growing more frenzied by the day.

I long ago lost count of the times I have been asked what kind of parent I am. I didn’t even understand the question at first (which I initially put down to the fact that, as I tried to keep the sentient potato that is a newborn fed, changed, rested and fed again, I wasn’t understanding many questions at all).

Was I attachment parenting? Did I incline to tiger mumming? There were also alpha, beta and helicopter mothers (these labels imposed rather than chosen). Now, younger friends tell me, you must........

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