It’s a chemical con. A hormonal hoax. Love, that is. I don’t want to strip away the romance for you but there’s simply no other explanation. How else is it possible to adore someone you’ve only just met? I’m talking about little Albert, of course, but the same theory applies to anyone and everyone. Why do you love your wife/husband/girlfriend/uncle/hamster/all of the above? Why does anyone love...
It Was A Good Day
12. 52 I run down the hospital corridor carrying our bags towards the maternity ward reception. My wife follows some distance behind, immobilised every few steps by another excruciating convulsion. “My wife… is in labour,” I wheeze urgently at the woman behind the desk. “Contractions… every minute.” She looks over her glasses at me with a weary expression. “Take a seat and fill in this form.” I...