Never forget he is an emotionally violent alcoholic who takes any opportunity to smash out, lash out at the only people left who still love him. And don’t let his loneliness, his inspiration, his wild talk and his exuberance trick you into riding his dreams, not for even the slightest second. All this in case you show a chink in your armour – something you shouldn’t have to wear with someone you love and remember when he was tiny and helpless and mewling for cuddles.

Like so many of us, he was meant for another time and life. I remember watching a British reality show about nobles in Jane Austen’s era. The women had to sit with their chaperones and do needlepoint. But the men, they started breakfast with brandy and continued drinking until late into the night. This is probably why they needed manservants: they were too drunk to dress or undress themselves! Probably also why the Tudor Kings of England had a too toxic to drink, wasn’t it? London must have stank. Victorian London was apparently just dreadful – the amount of raw sewage in average piped water (I’d hesitate to call it “drinking water”), was by modern standards shockingly high. I’d hope they only used it for soups and teas – BOILED water is safer and cleaner. And the beer was more similar to water then, not nearly as potent as it is now.

So we chalk it up to him not knowing what he’s doing, allowing the drink to get the better of him, or his troubled past, or the stress of his business or love life or whatever has come up as the latest excuse in a parade of excuses that have followed him most of his life. And we know full well it’s not alright to turn a blind eye, but we know he’s a good person underneath all those layers of arrogance, anger, and ambition. So we agree amongst ourselves that we wish it was different, and let it go for another few months.