I spent yesterday afternoon hanging out with Poppy and Leftwing Idiot at his flat.

Poppy was distinctly fragile after a long night of New Year partying. While we were watching TV together I absentmindedly started moving her hands into twisted positions and making her hit her chest, and then I announced that I was making her have Tourettes.

Leftwing Idiot reminded us that earlier she’d sounded as if she had Tourettes too. He’d made some scrambled eggs for Poppy while she was still asleep. He’d gone to ask her if she wanted some, and described her reply as sounding like me when I’m having a ‘ticcing fit’. He decided this meant she probably wasn’t ready to eat anything.

Poppy’s symptoms were of course only temporary – with a bit more sleep and some delicious dinner she was her usual self again by the evening. For me, this is the start of another year full of thousands of varied tics. There’s no guessing what they’ll be, but I think that’s part of what makes Tourettes both difficult and beautiful.