1. Our delivery driver – Manuel – who brought the wrong fabric softener, seeded instead of plain bagels, and who banged the box down on the doorstep, breaking three of the eggs. Then laughed. Endless prick.
2. Tenoch’s housekeeper, Celestina, who puts the scissors in the wrong drawer, folds my towels weirdly, never vacuums properly and can’t wash forks
3. This Motherhood Dare shite on Facebook and any Motherfucker who shares it
4. Men who smell of BO and don’t know it.
5. Novak Djokovic

I didn’t realise at first how much Tenoch’s housekeeper Celestina did for him. I thought she was just a cleaner – swept a few floors, made the beds – but she did a ton of other things around the Hacienda like mowing the lawn, laundering the bed linen, mending anything broken, restocking the bar, replacing the tapes in the CCTV and chlorinating the pool.

She was naturally beautiful – the kind of woman who can just roll out of bed and get on with it without trowelling on a full face of make-up. But though she was only a couple of years older than me, her hands and knees looked twenty years older. She had a work ethic the like of which I’d never seen, certainly never experienced. Put my lazy arse to shame.

Celestina came to the Hacienda every morning dead early, around 6 a.m., and was usually gone by the time I’d surfaced at 8. One morning, though, things hit a little different. My eyes opened to see a tiny girl, no more than three, standing at the foot of my bed.

I thought I was imagining her at first, like she’d crawled out of a dream. ‘Hola.’

‘Hola,’ said the girl, moving her black hair out of her eyes and squatting back down on the carpet to play with Richard E. Grunt and the pink bunny, having helped herself to both of them from my bag.

‘Quién eres tú?’ I croaked.

‘Mi nombre es Mátilda,’ she answered and carried on playing.

Shortly, before my eyes fully opened, Celestina came barrelling in, scooping up Mátilda who dropped the bunny to the floor.

‘Lo siento, señorita,’ she gasped. ‘Ella no debería haberte molestado.’

‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ I was at pains to say as I swung my legs out of bed. ‘I don’t speak much Spanish, sorry.’

‘It’s OK. I speak a little English.’

‘She’s a cute lil button,’ I said, looking at her daughter sitting comfortably in her arms in her tiny dungaree dress and green T-short, big eyes twinkling, big thumb being sucked.

‘Thank you,’ Celestina smiled. ‘I am sorry for her being in here. I have to bring them. My mother looks after them but she is out of town. Tenoch said it was OK as long as they – mantente fuera del camino – uh, stay out of way.’

‘Them?’ I said.