She’s delighted she had six children, so we’ll fill the benches at her funeral

Home, 4.30pm. Having arrived home from our three-week holiday, my husband and I are sitting on the sofa, at something of a loose end.

“You look a bit morose,” my husband says.

“I’m just between books,” I say, “I’ve finished The Cairo Trilogy. I miss living in Cairo between the wars. Now I just have to live here, in the rain. Why do we live in the rain?”