‘Is he more of a safari-type man or are sea creatures actually his thing?’ I add.

We laugh. The sound of laughter making us giggle, cackle and snort some more. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts from the sudden use, breathing is difficult and tears stream down my face.

‘Aaah …’ we sigh in unison, the laughter slowly petering out before rising once more and then falling.

‘Oh laughter, how I’ve missed you!’ I smile into my beer, taking a happy swig – perhaps tipsier than I thought. ‘I have some things to show you before we get hammered and can’t see them properly.’

I jump to the kitchen side and grab my bag, bringing it back to the girls.

‘It’s not a seal outfit, is it?’ laughs Za.

‘I have a feeling we’re going to be searching for sexy seal outfits by the end of the night,’ Vicky says, shaking her head into her hands.

‘OK, you know when bands release unseen photos from their time together and everyone loses their shit? Well, this is our version. Photos of us that I hadn’t seen until today. I don’t even remember them being taken.’

‘Photos of us younger, drunker and stupider? Bring it!’ says Vicky eagerly.

I pull the packages out of the bag and on to the table, open one up and pull out the pile of photographs, splaying them across the table for them to see.

‘Shit!’ Zaza shouts at one – a picture of all four of us sprawling across our one and only sofa in Hackney. ‘That’s the night you guys moved in!’

‘What on earth am I doing in this one?’ Vicky yelps, picking up an image which seems to show her trying to get into our fridge, the entire contents of it removed to the floor to help her in her attempt.

‘No idea, but look at this one!’ Zaza laughs, turning the paper in her hand towards me. ‘You, in the bath unconscious – Pia giving you a cold shower to bring you back round.’

‘Eeesh!’ I laugh. ‘Judging by the grin on her face she’s enjoying that a bit too much.’

‘Guys! Our first group holiday!’

‘Was that the Ibiza one when we discovered that foam parties weren’t for us?’ Zaza asks.

‘I nearly drowned!’ declared Vicky.

‘Here’s when we went to Amsterdam!’ I say, picking up a much more civilized photo of us on a bridge together – all straddling bikes.

‘Didn’t Vicky almost crash on that bike?’

‘You guys insisted on taking us to a café! And not just any café – you know the sort. The smoking kind. The ones where –’

‘We get it!’ laughs Zaza. ‘You have a spliff.’

‘God, remember when I was fun?’ Vicky sighs.

‘Are we calling you driving into a stationary tram “fun”?’ I ask.

‘Spontaneous, adventurous – void of any actual responsibility! Remember when everything was just simple?’ Vicky adds.