How is it that parents can read your mind, even when you’re on the other end of the phone? I phone my mother up this evening to talk about a couple of things, and within two minutes, she’s asking what it is I’m not telling her. What I’m not telling her is that earlier today, I was hit by a car. Nothing serious – a few wee scrapes and an adrenaline rush. No more. The driver was more frightened than I was, but then, I’ve done this sort of thing before.

But I’m not telling Mum because I didn’t want to worry her. Yet somehow, she can tell that I’m not telling her something, even when the conversation goes nowhere near cars, blunt trauma or tarmac. So, in the end, I fess up, thinking “oh god, now I’m just worrying her needlessly.”

And she laughs. Lots.

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