"A stranger would give your marraige a week"

HOME, 9am — and it strikes me that we need to revise certain household arrangements, for it’s an unhappy fashion in our house that all offspring burst open our bedroom door when we least expect it, to look for towels in the linen cupboard, saying things in passing like, “by the way, we’ve run out of milk”.

This morning it’s Daughter One assaulting our cupboard and privacy; walking past our bed with a towel and a bottle of Lidl’s hair conditioner, which is like “washing-up liquid, for god’s sake, I mean what is it with Dad and Lidl?”

Then she pauses at the door. “Not being funny,” she says, “but if a stranger saw you both right now, they’d give your marriage a week.”