Sunday morning. 7.02am. The boyfriend and I are debating who braves the kitchen tundra (heating now off as it is ‘summer’) to make coffee when he gets an email from Sky Sports.
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I took ownership of the keys to the vicarage on Wednesday. My car was packed to the rafters, mainly with Diptyque candles, Iittala glassware – the essential stuff. Nic followed on behind with a vacuum cleaner, my carpet cleaner and Mini Puppy. I was very stressed. We all know that houses, stripped of furniture, look ghastly. I was prepared. I swore I would not cry or get depressed.