Time would expand so that I am able, within the space of just one day, to dazzle my boys with cultural experiences which ignite lifelong passions; and laze on the lounge cuddling with them and stroking their still-soft skin as we take turns reading aloud from our well-thumbed books (we are now reading fluently in French, having mastered Spanish last summer and Arabic this term); and still have time to write in my journal and do two good hours on my new manuscript; and whip up a lasagne from scratch (including freshly made pasta sheets).

At the same time, I would have less need for this time, for the words would run from my pen, revealing perfectly formed sentences which linked one after another, to create, without revision, a lucid and riveting plot.