Here’s the scene that I woke up to on the sofa: an empty bottle of Rioja, a stack of half-used Kleenex, a half eaten packet of chocolate digestives, an open jar of Nutella and shattered glass from a broken picture frame but no photo.

The last thing I remember is being on the phone with Auntie Monica. I remember a few tears (okay a lot of tears) and her telling me to just come home. DBx