I promised my wife that she could throw the first stone.

There’s a story called ‘The Lottery’. You might have read it. Carnage, very literary, hell of a twist, which is nothing really, not once you’ve come home late and your wife’s in bed, tears streaming down her face, and she won’t get up, not now, and you think, I know what I need to do. So you tell her about ‘The Lottery’, the story you studied at university. How there are people much worse off than you; as if by living lucky, you’ve lost your right ever to grieve or feel hard done by.