It was only beach cricket. I bowled and he batted. The ball lingered an eternity in the patch of blue sky before plummeting towards earth. I was standing with outstretched arms when the full force of our relationship hit me in the mouth. “You’re no son of mine,” he said.

Stephen Goodlad started writing during the first lockdown in England having retired from work only a few months before, full of different ambitions. Writing has helped shape new ambitions and new challenges ahead.