I’m now sitting in the garden, with a beer, listening to the baby woodpigeons moving around in the tree. 

I’m paint spattered and dusty, but content that the spare bedroom, which was once two bedrooms, is now finished. 

As is usual with any couple, there were disputed finishing touches. I asserted myself, though, hanging my old, beloved Cyndi Lauper poster. 

Which was quickly replaced by William McCarthy.