Evening, Friday Dinner table, with extended family. You breathe out with the breath of a thousand potatoes, and prepare yourself for the traditional digestif: an elderly relative explaining why the Labour party is antisemitic. This is an argument that can be imposed on to any topic – Germany, the countryside, boating. But today it is the Labour party, and as usual you are arguing on the side of “no”, with your pleas to interrogate the source of the story, and to look at individuals rather than write off the whole of the party, or of Suffolk, or of the seas. But this is an unwinnable fight, because on their side they have memories of siblings being shuffled on to trains, and their homes being bombed, and with that comes the sureness that it is only a matter of time. So you settle into your ice cream and talk about Beyoncé instead.