I approached having a baby by planning for the worst but hoping for the best. At 39 weeks, I heaved myself to an internet cafe; I printed off the scant and tentative beginnings of my work in progress and filed it away. As a feminist, I knew the score. Having a baby meant writing was out of the question, for months if not years. But what effect would the pram in the hall have on reading?

Then when my daughter was born, I didn’t feel like reading and I didn’t even miss it. Infatuated people don’t read! They don’t want to think about anything but their love.