Shower

In my dream, everyone tells me that Emily is leaving home to go to university.

I look at her, lying in my arms in her babygro.

"But she's a baby," I explain. "She can't leave home yet."

Everyone assures me that she will indeed be leaving home very soon.

"No," I explain. "Look at her little bonnet. Her tiny feet. Look at that wispy hair. She's only a baby."

"Sorry," they say, "but she's leaving."

Some dreams really don't require too much psychological interpretation.

In real life, as we walk down the hospital corridors to visit the Communist, I am trying to explain the difference between various types of showers for when she gets a new one.

"Power showers are good. Electric ones aren't - well, not those 7.5 kilowatt ones, they need to be at least 9 kilowatts or they're just a lukewarm trickle. Ones that work off the boiler are okay but if you have the kind of boiler that has a hot water tank you'll need to remember to set the boiler to come on or the water will be cold."

Emily pauses a moment. Showers in general are dear to her heart but I can tell she isn't fascinated by this information.

"Is this how you plan to plummet me into adulthood, with news of different kinds of showers?" she enquires.