What was Kat Lister to do when her husband died of a brain tumour, leaving her a widow in her 30s? Grieve, obviously, but then try to laugh too. Here, she explains why
I’m not wild about house parties and this one isn’t convincing me otherwise. It’s midnight on a Friday and I’m texting my best friend from a darkened corner beside the fridge. “Sometimes I worry that I’m damaged goods,” I type, referring to my recent foray into the world of dating as a 30-something widow. I watch the WhatsApp ellipsis flash on my screen.
“What, like a used toothbrush?” he shoots back.