Last July, I answered a reader’s letter about fear of going home in the holidays.

At the weekend, I got an email from said reader telling me how they’re getting on, it is reproduced with permission.

“I just wanted to thank you for writing about my problem in the Guardian many months ago. I wrote in a moment of desperation, when I didn’t know what to do, but felt in need of some motherly advice. I also wanted you to know that things since then have started to go really well for myself and also everyone in my family. We’ve all started to achieve real financial security, and calm lives. It’s been a great relief, and something which from my youngest years I never thought would happen. I’ve found a job I enjoy with great opportunities, my mother is finally seeking the help she needs, and my siblings are starting to take ownership of their behaviour and work upon building good futures for themselves.”

Isn’t it funny to hear of yourself as the dispenser of ‘motherly advice’? I still think of myself as reckless and a teenager..