I am a man. And when I say a man, I mean ALL man. A man’s man. A man’s man who, at the same time, is very much a woman’s man. I was born in the 1970s, halcyon days when a man could be a man. And not just a man. He could be ALL man. He could be a man’s man. And at the same time, a woman’s man. The 70s, as I called them, were blur- an endless round of parties, good times, wild two-in-a-bath bathing sessions with my sister, and constantly hopping from one bed to another, Monday to Friday- Mum and Dad’s house, weekends- one or other of my grandmother’s houses. I didn’t question it, I just went with it. No regrets. I did some things I wouldn’t do now, things I’m not proud of. But you do when you’re young. And, anyway, that’s what the twin tub washing machine was for…Takin’ Care of Business.