Why is guilt so difficult to shake? I feel regretful to this day about a poor decision I made as a boy

How long must guilt last? When I was a boy, aged about 10, I had a football that I kicked around for years, with my mates, with my brother or all on my own, dribbling aimlessly about or booting it against a wall. This ball conferred upon me some status, for it was what we used to call a caser, which is not a word I’ve used for a good 40 years. A caser meant it was a proper football, with a rubber bladder on the inside and leather on the outside. This was as opposed to a very cheap plastic sphere that blew around in the wind, or one made of thicker plastic and fashioned to look like a caser. The latter was more respectable than the former, but it wasn’t, you know, a caser.

I had this ball for a long time, progressing from being able to do only five keepy-ups, to as many as perhaps 10. Yes, I was that gifted. This was the 70s, at the dawn of which decade Adidas had come up with its Telstar ball for the 1970 World Cup. It was made of 32 leather panels, consisting of 12 black pentagons and 20 white hexagons. My caser was modelled on that caser. It was probably a present from my grandad, but I don’t remember what it looked like when it was new, only how it looked when it was old, when the panels were neither black nor white, just brown, having had all the colour kicked out of them.

The case for removing the two-child and overall benefit caps grows stronger all the time

When the biggest shake-up of the welfare system in decades was introduced, there were bound to be teething troubles. But the welter of problems after the launch of universal credit – especially the five-week wait for initial payments and the harshness of the sanctions regime – led to persistent questions over whether it should be abolished . Ministerial ambition appeared to have outstripped Whitehall’s capacity for delivery.

But the relatively smooth operation of the system during the pandemic, including the administration of the £20 weekly uplift, improved its reputation. Seven million people are expected to be on UC by the end of the next parliament, and plans for the remainder of the managed migration from the old system are in place. The aim of streamlining three separate bureaucracies into one has been met, and the greater simplicity of this arrangement has brought some advantages.

Readers on Adrian Chiles’s article about his father’s death and the unique sense of privilege that they also felt in similar circumstances

I’m so sorry to hear about Adrian Chiles’s dad ( It is a privilege to be present when someone dies. If only I’d seen it that way, it would have helped me no end, 10 April ). It’s an incredibly sad time that I don’t think you can ever be prepared for. I sat with my mum while she died. She’d been ill with Alzheimer’s for a few years and lost her life at just 59. It was horrible.

But in the days after her death, I remember thinking that while it was awful and incredibly difficult to see (her death was a drawn-out one – she never did like saying goodbye), it was also a privilege to be there. I’ve never said that to anyone before writing this letter. I’ve never heard anyone else say it, so to read that really resonated with me, and I am grateful to Adrian for sharing it with us.
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Justine Kurland’s images capture her unique life raising a child on the road – and offer up a joyous escape from the traditional family photo album

Research reveals ‘long-lasting effects’ caused by pressure from parents, families, bullies and the media

Parents who tease their children about their weight are putting them at greater risk of feeling bad about their bodies decades later, regardless of whether they grow up to have obesity or not, a groundbreaking study has found.

Thirteen-year-olds who felt pressure from family members to shed pounds and endured weight-based teasing showed higher levels of internalised weight stigma when they turned 31, according to research by the University of Bristol published on Tuesday in the Lancet Regional Health Europe journal.

London law firm admits to error but judge says final order cannot be overturned

A couple were divorced by mistake after solicitors at a leading law firm made a computer error – but a senior judge has said it cannot be overturned.

The couple, referred to as Mr and Mrs Williams by the high court, were married for 21 years until they separated in 2023.

Solicitors at the London firm Vardags, headed by Ayesha Vardag, the self-styled “diva of divorce”, used an online portal to mistakenly apply for a final order for the couple, who were still attempting to agree financial arrangements for their split.

Sir Andrew McFarlane, the president of the family division, explained lawyers had intended to apply for a divorce for another client “but inadvertently opened the electronic case file in ‘Williams v Williams’ and proceeded to apply for a final order in that case”.

He said solicitors at Vardags, who were representing the wife, used the online portal “without the instruction or authority of their client”. He said the online system operated with “its now customary speed” and granted the order divorcing the Williamses within 21 minutes.

The solicitors realised their mistake two days later and applied to the high court to rescind the final divorce order. They described the error as being simply that of someone at Vardags “clicking the wrong button” and argued that as the final order was applied for by mistake, it should be set aside.

But McFarlane rejected the application and said: “There is a strong public policy interest in respecting the certainty and finality that flows from a final divorce order and maintaining the status quo that it has established.”

But as far as I’m concerned she’s still my baby

My daughter has turned two, so we can no longer really justify calling her a baby, which is absurd because she is a baby; a baby who can walk and run and say more words each day, but a baby nonetheless. She screams less than she used to and sleeps a lot more. Her interests include lifting things. She cheers on command, sticking her impossibly edible little arms in the air and saying ‘Yaaaaaay!’ for no reason science can discern. She is wonderful.

She is still moody and a drama queen. She registers her discontent with the world – and this, several times each day – by theatrically hanging her head in front of her body in the manner of Charlie Brown, before slowly, sadly walking around us as if on a one-person parade of hurt feelings. A course of action which is, unfortunately for her, hilarious.

Manage your mum’s care from a distance. Don’t get sucked into her orbit

The question My father was violent and my mother emotionally fragile. I took on a parental role from the age of around 11, trying to manage my dad’s moods, keep my mum’s spirits up and take care of my younger brother. Mum often lean ed on me and I felt responsible for her stability. We were often punished in cruel ways. I was also abused sexually by a family “friend”. When we finally escaped our father, Mum moved this friend into our first “safe” home as her partner, where he continued to abuse me. As adults, my brother and I maintain strict boundaries and there is judgment from the wider family for this.

With a lot of therapy I have managed to forge a life for myself, which can still feel as though it shouldn’t belong to me, with a loving partner and warm friends. I have worked in a professional role for 15 years. Yet I struggle to feel confident and competent. I often fear losing the life I’ve built. I maintain contact with Mum, because I don’t want to hurt her and I know she doesn’t recognise how things were, but I don’t feel the “normal” feelings people feel towards their parents.

After her brother’s death, Mary-Anne O’Connor never thought she’d meet someone who could carry her grief. Then, at a 21st birthday party, Anthony walked through the door

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My brother Matthew was the closest person in my world when I was 16 years old. He was 17 and we were part of the same social group, always off having adventures. He was incredibly wise for someone so young and he used to solve the problems of the world for me as we played one-on-one basketball together after school.

“You worry too much,” he’d often say as we’d walk home and watch the sunset. “Just enjoy living in this great country, Australia, and family and friends and stuff, you know?” We were like two halves of a whole.