‘Alice doesn’t grow much,’ my father, Robert Pitman, wrote in his Express column when I was two and a half, ‘but she talks a lot. She even conducts interviews with perfect strangers asking them: “Where do oo live?” “What’s oo name?’ etc.” ’ ‘Not much change there then,’ said Mr Home Front (a bit too miserably in my opinion). In common with Blanche DuBois, I not only still enjoy talking to strangers, I have always depended on their kindness. For, despite the current post-Brexit hand-wringing, I still believe most people in this country are very nice. And always helpful in a crisis. Mr Home Front is the complete opposite to me. He won’t ask anyone, let alone a stranger, for help, in case it undermines his masculinity. In pre-sat nav days, we would have violent rows in the car, when lost en route to an unfamiliar location. ‘Just ask that...
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