I remember when I crept into the parents bed at six years old and folded myself between my dad’s strong arms and smelled his scent and felt warm and safe. Then when I was older and shared a bed with him because we were working together away from home and needs must. I remember dreaming that the job wasn’t going well and I was flailing around in my sleep and needed to be woken as I was actually hitting him. Then when he was dying I remember sleeping next to him, in my brothers house to care for him and wondering if he would be ok and make it through the night. Now in my 60s I am sleeping next to my 28 year old son as we share with friends a break in Monaco at the Historique Grand Prix. What a privilege, I wonder if he remembers crawling into my arms when he was young, I hope it will be many years before we part.