There are decisive moments that catch us unaware.  We all experience them.   When, for instance, inexplicably, love dies. When you open the curtains and the cherry blossom tree is bare.  That sense of aloneness when you leave a school for a final time. The worker who hands back an identity badge and walks away. For Arlene Foster her political world changed that Tuesday afternoon in Nigel Dodds’ office on Belfast’s Shore Road when she assessed the reports coming to her and knew a majority of her Assembly party colleagues wanted her gone.  She felt hurt and angry.  She cried for…

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