Ness did what she had to do in Bristol and I wandered around, had a sandwich by the canal, read my book with a coffee. And then we left to go back home. We could probably have made it in time for supper. But on the way, we got completely pelted by rain on the M4 and one of my windscreen wipers broke. It was quite dangerous – I could see nothing and we were in the fast lane at the time – but she was cool-headed, flagging the cars around us until I got us safely on to the hard shoulder, my legs a-tremble. She put her hand on my thigh and soothed me. I can’t describe it, Dr. R, but I felt looked after with her, in a way that I didn’t with Karl. Yes, if I was a man, she was just the sort of woman I would fall in love with.

We called the AA and our partners and waited in the rain.

Looking back, what happened next seems entirely random. The AA arrived quickly and towed us for miles to some garage in the Bath countryside. It turned out they would have to order a special windscreen wiper (who knew such a thing existed?) which wouldn’t turn up until the next day – if we were lucky.

So, there we were, stuck in the middle of nowhere. We had an empty slate. So we made the relevant phone calls home, organized the necessary childcare, and then found a surprisingly pleasant inn on the edge of the village recommended by the mechanic – an establishment favoured by walkers: low beams, flagstone floor, roaring log fire. The only room they had available was a double, which neither of us was bothered about. So we found ourselves drinking pints of local ale sitting by the log fire, feeling rather elated at the surprising turn of events. We were on our second round when Karl’s texts started beeping through: Where are Josh’s shin pads? Annie can’t find her blue wig? You haven’t bought any washing tablets. How do you switch the dishwasher on?