
Real life | 22 November 2018
Lying in bed one night as the rain pounded down, I became aware of a yellow patch forming on the bedroom ceiling. It took shape as I lay there watching it, and before long it had spread into a glorious stigmata of impending ruin. This would happen. Because it’s not as though for the first year of living in this house I was living with a boyfriend who was a builder, whose original specialist trade was roofing. I must have imagined that. I did of course ask the builder boyfriend to get up and check the roof but with his usual reverse logic he insisted on starting work in the
