From the wrong knickers to the right man

AS AN uncle I have always been pretty proud of my nieces and nephews. They have had varied lives and I have always delighted in being called Uncle Jonathan.

I have never been overly worried about their material successes in life so long as they were good company and able to laugh at pretty much anything.

Bryony, however, has always been rather different. She didn’t so much laugh at life as roar at it. Whereas the others had minor misfortunes, Bryony went hell for leather.

But we all knew she was talented and, as a journalist myself, I took enormous delight in her ascent up the slippery pole that is Fleet Street, even her ill-judged saunter into the world of being a 3am Girl on the Mirror.

And, imagine the thrill for me of her writing a book. The pride I felt. What is it about? I asked her to which she replied: “My life through my late teens and twenties...”