Cordial relations in lockdown lasted for a whole week.

That changed yesterday when I went into the kitchen and found part of the printer boiling in a saucepan.

“It’ll be fine,” she said.

My wife has a sunny disposition. She laughs. She jokes. She sings. She dances. I think this is why the universe smiles down on her, ruffles her hair affectionately and says, ‘okay, just this once, but don’t do it again.’

I went over to the printer. The ink cartridges had been removed and the unit which held them had gone.

“Why?”

“It needs a clean.”

“The printer has a self-cleaning programme.”

“I just think this is better,” she said, stirring the pan with a pair of chopsticks.

Needless to say,...

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