My beloved can’t watch enough true crime programmes. Especially cold cases where a new team solves something the original detectives couldn’t.
I’m reading ‘The Art of Possibility’ and during the chapter on ‘Giving an A’, I cast a new eye over the relationship I had with my father.
I like drawing connections, even and perhaps particularly obtuse ones. I find they encourage thinking. Both the fresh detectives and my kinder evaluations turn up things that weren’t seen at first. They put new ideas together in ways that change the picture.
The criminals are caught and justice is done. It’s not a happy ending, but it’s positive.
I think my Dad just didn’t know what to say to me, much of the time. We were similar and yet quite different. He loved me, nonetheless.
The truth is better served.