In the street we ran into a Labor MP I vaguely know. She teasingly asked V if he was giving me ‘plenty of support’ since my book came out. V passed it off with a quip but at home later he launched one of his rants against stupid, cliché-ridden, impertinent, presumptuous, offensive women. A heavy vibe filled the flat. After careful thought about my wording I asked whether there was any reason why her question had so violently got under his skin—did he feel perhaps that I hadn’t properly acknowledged how much support he had been giving me? My attempt at humility didn’t cut much ice. He said this hadn’t even crossed his mind, and that he was furious because I ‘didn’t give a shit’ about his opinions of her; I hadn’t even looked up from the paper. Finally I said, ‘All right. Next time I’ll pay more attention.’

The bad vibe is still hanging around, hours later. I don’t know what this is about; and I’ll never find out by asking V, because he doesn’t know either. He truly believes it’s about the politician.