TPR and I began a new life in New York, where we rented a fully-serviced apartment on the 42nd floor of a gleaming steel and glass Manhattan skyscraper. Released from all the everyday ties of our old life in the UK, here we could do whatever we pleased. It helped that a small army of five immigrant workers visited us every day to attend to our every need, including all the housework.

Our building had been designed to incorporate all the latest gadgets. The latest innovation was the space-saving lift that shrank the bodies of their passengers to fit. I was now quite used to watching TPR slip down from 6 foot to 5’5″ for the short journey up the building to our flat.