When it comes to talking about amputation, children appear to be considerably more comfortable with the subject than adults. At a recent dinner party, the children – who had stayed up specially to see my stump – had a whole list of questions: What kind of saw did they use? Were you asleep or awake? Did you have cancer in your leg? Has it all gone now? How many stitches did you have? Was there loads of blood? The room went very quiet as the adults strained to hear the answers to the questions they had been too polite, or too afraid, to ask. My small nieces, aged 9,5 and 4 have been remarkably unperturbed by the whole event. The youngest snuggled up next to me yesterday, patted my stump gently and asked how my leg was doing. Her sister observed that it looked just like a teddy’s leg which, when encased in its brown compression sock, I suppose it does. I’ve been impressed and relieved that my teenage children’s friends have shown a similar relaxed interest. One or two have even requested a sighting of the still-healing wound – something definintely not for the faint-hearted.