I open my laptop and stare at the screen, sipping more wine and willing myself not to do anything stupid, not to torture myself in my empty house by peering at those pictures again. I need a substitute activity, that’s it; Penny has suggested several times that I could do with a ‘hobby’. She even brought me over a bag of wool and some needles a few weeks ago, to ‘get you started with crochet’, as she put it. ‘I’d teach you, but you seem more like someone who wants to learn at your own pace.’ (I’d told her about the hedgehog pincushion debacle at school.) ‘You might be better learning from YouTube tutorials,’ she added, ‘rather than from me.’

I’m definitely too tipsy to try to learn to crochet now. But I decide to have a browse on YouTube anyway, and soon I’m swigging yet more wine, tucking into the hummus, some crisps and the baggy-skinned cherry tomatoes, as I watch all kinds of daft stuff: a sped-up film of someone making a pizza (not a patch on Izzy Cooks!, in my opinion), and then a traybake incorporating Maltesers and bashed pretzels (interesting!). Stuck for what to watch next, I sit through a few news clips of Flaxico’s bunnygate fiasco. There’s a chilly-looking young female reporter standing in front of our headquarters, and interviews with mums who are using words like ‘disgusting’ and ‘horrified’ and vowing to never buy anything connected to Flaxico again. In one segment, a child of eight is crying because she is afraid of the snack’s effects on her health. This is neither fun nor soothing, which is surely what a hobby is supposed to be. Perhaps I should give macramé a go? Or, alternatively, what would happen if I put ‘Estelle Lang’ in the search bar?

Nothing, I tell myself. Why would Estelle Lang be on YouTube?

I type in her name – and, bloody hell, she is on there. In fact it looks like there are several videos of her, being a ‘leading endocrinologist with a wealth of insight and advice for any woman at this rewarding, yet challenging, stage of life.’ That’s what it ruddy says. She even appears to have her own channel. I can’t imagine how she finds the time, what with being a medical superstar and shagging other women’s husbands – but she’s obviously highly efficient on top of everything else.

I cram more crisps into my mouth and wash them down with more wine, ready to watch.

This isn’t the same as looking at pictures of her, I reassure myself. It’s an entirely different thing. I’ll have a tiny peek, just to see what she’s like when she’s moving and talking. It doesn’t mean I’ll get addicted.