COASTAL Suffolk, and we are instigating radical change; with an empty nest looming my husband and I have put ourselves to discovering areas of common interest. 

OUR youngest sister is celebrating her 40th birthday tonight in Sligo. Months ago, she warned us of her plans: “We’re taking over the hostel on Lough Arrow for the night,” she said. 

A bright idea, Feb 24: In bed, ten past midnight, my husband says, “We should rent our house out to pay for our holiday.”

I’M FLYING to London at 9.30pm.

HOME, 8am, and my husband has made fresh plans to dislocate his new hip.

HOME, 8am, and the type of noise my youngest sister’s generating downstairs in the kitchen declares her view that if getting up at 8am is good enough for her, it’s good enough for everybody. 

IT’S 9am, down in the garden and I’m sitting on a rug in the sun. Beside me, my younger sister is lying face down.

MY husband and I are outside the house, trying out a pair of matching sun-loungers that he’s just bought.

I AM in the Sligo boondocks with my sister, staring at her youngest daughter Lola who’s sitting under the kitchen table eating a pink meringue.

IT’S 8pm, at the kitchen table — and my children are swapping childhood memories between forkfuls of curry.