My husband is travelling a lot at the moment, so we have a rather strange “new normal” where he comes and goes. One week in London, one week in Timbuktu, or Ouagadugu or Johannesburg or Beijing, then back to London.
It’s most discombobulating – for him – we are quite used to it now. But I find myself, on my own in the house, feminising bits of it to possibly an unacceptable degree.
For example, there is pretty much never any food in the house, as I buy a tiny portion of fish and greenery for my dinner each day and lunch is mackerel pate on crackers. The kids eat their set menu of stuff so when Giles storms into the kitchen thinking about possibly … I don’t know… some leftover pork belly and noodles for his lunch he is disappointed.
I also made a potentially marriage-ending purchase of a giant puffy pink velvet quilt for my bed. It’s just that it’s been cold at night recently *whiney voice* and in such times just a duvet won’t cut it. I like sleeping with the window open, under a genuinely heavy pile of bedclothes.
When Giles saw it, having caught a bus, two planes, a dirigible and a canoe back from the Ecuadorian cloud forest, he said: “WHAT is that?! It looks like it’s made from old ladies’ knickers!”
And I said no! It’s from Graham and Greene. It’s terrific. And I do love it. My nightly ritual is a 200 calorie dinner followed by 2 large glasses of sparkling water while watching 1 rationed episode of The Crown, then bed by about 9.30pm with a hot water bottle under my giant blancmange quilt. It’s kind of heaven.