Which means you’re not really holding a pen: it’s levitating very slightly in your hands. You’re not really sitting in that chair: you’re hovering just a fraction above it.Frankly, I’m not sure I believe it any more.As I walk home, my feet are very much touching the ground. I’m not electromagnetically hovering anywhere.I start walking heavily up the stairs.“Harriet?” Annabel is standing in the doorway. “Are you OK?”I turn around slowly.Dad appears next to her, grinning. “I’m sorry I was such a terrible grump this morning, chickpea. Work is a bit harder than I expected – even for a genius like me. But I went shopping on the way home. Look.”He points proudly at five plastic carrier bags, stuffed with the sort of things dads buy when they go shopping. Multi-packs of biscuits, enormous bottles of cola, unnecessarily large packs of toilet rolls. All Man Size, as if to prove that only girls need things in reasonable quantities.I look at them, then at him.“And look,”
