I wake up earlier than intended. Last night was a late one and I wanted a lie in today but the cold winter sunshine streaming in through the window seems to have other ideas for me. Reluctantly I roll out of bed, throw on some clothes and go and get a newspaper, passing a neighbour in the hallway.

On returning, I pause for a moment as the kettle sings its song and my bread clicks up from the toaster. This is the best part of my weekend, I think: knowing that I can take breakfast and the newspaper back to bed, reading and eating at leisure.

I flick through the pages, working out which articles I will read later on in the day. Once I’m done, I drain my coffee and manage to snooze for nearly another hour. It’s still only 9:30 am when I wake.

I head into the kitchen and begin melting white chocolate for a cheesecake I’m making for dinner tonight. P is coming over and this is the dessert he’s requested. “Don’t bother with a main course,”he said on the phone, “Just do the cheesecake!”He might not want a main, but I do, I’ll come to that later.

My afternoon is spent cleaning - the living room hasn’t seen the Hoover for a couple of weeks, I’ve just had no spare time at all. A couple of hours later the place is spotless. In between cleaning, I’ve read articles from the paper I bought this morning and chat on the phone with my mate. She is considering getting Smart lipo, I tell her not to.

Just as I’m putting the finishing touches to dinner, the doorbell rings. P is early. But as I open the door he is standing brandishing a huge bunch of flowers for me. I had wanted ten minutes to myself before his arrival, but now it doesn’t matter. I take the flowers gratefully, find a vase and fill it with water.