There's a new girl in town, with a brand new style
Dr B. has started his new job in London and thus put an end to spending three to four nights a week in a hotel room 80 miles away.
We could not be more chuffed. However, the flip side is that we are both very much used to spending quiet evenings separately, and the flat we live in is, how shall I put it, particularly unsuitable for finding one's own personal space. Let's face it: it is bloody small, even now that half of our staff packed away in storage.
So even if I officially moved in two and a half months ago – but had unofficially spent at his place most of the past year – we are only just tasting what it going to be like to truly live together. Day in, day out. Week after week. After week. After week.
So far we have spent the first evening chasing each other in and out of rooms, trying to find a combination of comfortable positions to wind down and prepare for a good night's rest. Sofa / desktop. Laptop / desktop. Music on / music off. Speakers / headphones. Desktop / bed. And finally, bed / sofa: me snoring on the pull-out couch in the lounge, and Dr B. in bed wearing earplugs (just in case).
Talking of which, it's time for the BBC's regular as clockwork by-monthly article on the disastrous consequences of snoring. It never fails to make me feel like a despicable torturer.