‘Mimi?’ come crisp, American, can-do tones. ‘It’s Catherine Cobb. Is this a good time?’

‘Yeesss!!!’ I say, as I replace the receiver, punching the air like Andy Murray, and doing a little war dance in the kitchen in front of Ana, who has the grace not to laugh. If she wasn’t so thin – so Ana, in fact – I would have hugged her.

Cath invited us to dinner at Court Place! That Friday evening! So what if some other guests have dropped out at the last minute. I haven’t felt so happy for ages… not since I found out that Ocado was going henceforth to deliver groceries to my postcode.

‘Just a bunch of locals,’ she’d said, ‘and my houseguests. It’s kind of last minute, I hope you don’t mind… but I thought I’d try you and Ralph, as it’s so awful, you’ve been here for months and we haven’t welcomed you properly. I’m so ashamed! It’ll be very honkytonk, very casual,’ she added, to my joy. If it really was casual, I could probably deliver Ralph up to Court Place without too much duplicity.

I wouldn’t have cared if she was inviting us with Garry and Debbie from the pub and the local knacker. I’d been longing to snoop around Court Place for ages, though it has to be said that Ralph hasn’t shown any interest, as 1. he doesn’t want to meet New People and 2. Court Place isn’t an ancestral seat. Ralph regards inhabiting the same house since the Domesday Book to be the supreme human accomplishment and Court Place was bought only about seven years, i.e. a nanosecond, ago, by Granville Cobb, who is apparently super-rich, according to Rose, who knows these things.

For a second, it almost seems worth having Ana from Poland, just so we can waltz off, but not quite.

So now I have lots to think about, like applying make-up for the first time for three months and also trying out two of my newer online purchases, a pair of Spanx knickers to flatten my tummy, and then, on top, another pair of knickers with a padded panel on the seat to endow me with ‘booty boost’, i.e. a sticky-out bottom, without having to resort to surgery or, even worse, the gym. As a woman with a large nose and a flat bum, who avoids three-way mirrors, it took me years and years to work out that only others know how things on these two key fronts really are, a period of ignorance for which I shall always remain profoundly grateful.

As the countdown to Court Place is underway on Friday, I’m in my bedroom, staring into my hanging cupboard.

I have to wear something tonight, but what? I don’t want to look as if I’ve tried too hard. I don’t want to look as if I haven’t tried at all. At least, at Court Place, I won’t be cold. I stare at my clothes for ages. Daywear is no problem, obviously.