Despite that minor blip, all in all, I was delighted to see how Matthew’s new life in Galway suited him and even though I did manage to complain a bit, it did fill my heart to see him try his best to stay positive. His never-ending determination to get out of the chair one day was inspiring and humbling to say the least, and so with all that in mind, I didn’t mention my work worries, or dare to tap into any hidden angst over Tom Farley again.

Matthew, as assertive and perceptive as always, wasn’t going to let me get away just so easy when he had me all to himself, though.

‘You’re allowed to feel the way you need to feel, Charlotte,’ he told me as I was leaving to go back to Ardara that Sunday evening, totally contradicting his joke about walking the prom, but I know why he said it when he did. ‘I have days when I want to scream at how unfair it is that I’m so determined to get on my feet again, yet my stupid, sorry excuse of a body doesn’t have the power to keep up.’

I sat beside him on their front porch, wondering how the hell we created this mess between us.

‘I look around at people with other problems, much more extreme than mine,’ he told me, ‘and I try to remind myself how I could be so much worse off, then I also try to give myself a metaphoric kick in the behind to make me grateful for what I have in comparison.’

He almost acted out his words, so dramatic and visual. He was definitely born for the stage.

‘But then I think no,’ he announced. ‘I’m allowed to feel miserable when I need to. Society reminds us to be grateful, to be thankful and to be happy but some days you just have to give in and feel shit, and that’s OK too! It’s OK to have a day when you feel sorry for yourself and all your own struggles, because those struggles are real to you, right here, right now, and you have to feel them in order to deal with them.’

I couldn’t have agreed with him more.

‘High five, brother,’ I said to him, and we did a handshake that we’d made up as children, which made both of us smile.