Caitlin Moran: small talk in the smallest room

‘I’m on the toilet,’ says Pete. ‘I don’t mind!’ I say. ‘We’re spending quality time together’
MARK HARRISON

It’s been an usually hectic couple of days, and me and Pete have been like ships in the night. Big, tired ships. Every time we’ve tried to talk, we’ve been interrupted by children, the phone, the doorbell.

Finally, however, I’ve found him in a suitably quiet place, where we can have a good, old-fashioned, husband-and-wife catch-up. I give him a kiss, sit down next to him, and start running through the agenda.

Me: “So, I’ve looked at a shed for the bottom of the garden, and I don’t know whether we should get a wooden one or a grey one. I think we might have passed Peak Grey. If we go grey, we might find, in the future, we have a shed on our hands