This week it was my husband’s birthday (and excuse me but I have to interject within this sentence as ‘husband’ just sounds such a formal a title to give to a man who has and continues to sustain our romantic union on the basis of deep mutual trust and desire, so forever and into the future when I mention him, I will refer to him as the ‘brunette’; it amazes me, like his mother, despite the gravity of time, he has not one grey hair, so my brunette he is), and as with each recurring birthday year, at least for the past 24, it almost always coincides with Lee Child’s…