SUNDAY lunch began with Phil’s observation that the lamb was tasty ‘but dry-ish’. ‘Thanks for that, Phil, your first contribution of the day,’ his wife, Mary, snapped. Phil shrugged as their son, Cameron, remarked that his mother was overreacting. ‘After the week you’ve had I’d keep out of it,’ she said, leaving the table. Wounded, Cameron stormed off himself. ‘Sorry about him, Mum,’ their other son, Dean, called out theatrically. ‘Don’t be a shit-stirrer, Dean,’ Phil said, pointing his knife. When Dean departed too, Phil was left alone. But he took up his fork. No point wasting good food.