I remind myself of the antecedents to my own camouflage – battle fatigues in a war you didn’t start. Our hero conjures rainbows and keeps her core safe. I didn’t know I should be protecting mine. Cozy weekends at the Cambridge house you prayed wasn’t built on sugar. Expert blanking of the blackmoor statue in the drawing room in Chiswick. I said ignore it and it will go away. At least, that is, until the world splits open, and suddenly you can’t ignore it anymore.