One stormy night night we settled down to sleep in our bedroom, with P and S there too, tucked in on the floor by the wardrobe. The next morning we discovered that the majority of the window’s astragal panes had been blown out overnight by the wind.

TPR suggested that we should ask CM to fix them. I had a better idea: to ask our chain-smoking barmaid upstairs neighbour to organise the repair – just so long as I was able drag her away from the house bar that she ran from her hallway.