I sat myself next to my mother. ‘I prefer women to men as my partner,’ I muttered, almost whispering in an apologetic tone, weeping uncontrollably... I could see the colour of her face go from red to pale, as I explained the switch, the delicate difference in lovemaking and companionship, the therapy, and the Kinsey scale. ‘But you’re not entirely gay, the test says...you’re also drawn to men, focus on the small percentage,’ she rebuked, adding that she’d talk to my father. What still resonates. Again she thoughtabout getting home, having a bath and a snack and then joining Peter in theliving room for an hour of telly before retiring to bed and dreamland withankles chained together until after breakfast next morning.The little Austin purred along in third gear as she negotiated a slight inclineand turn in the road that led into the craggy, undulating countryside. Asshe turned the small steering wheel, her underwire bra - which she preferredto keep Peter's attention on her 38-26-39. More

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