On one side of our new home was a baker's and on the other a grocer's. After arriving at the apartment there was still enough time to go out and buy a few basics to last us the weekend.

We had jam buns and cheese for tea and I was still wearing my going-away outfit, a navy jersey two piece with very high stiletto heels. I had taken the little white hat off before shopping and now, after eating, I was relieved to pull my shoes off.

I didn't think I was hungry until I sat down to eat and we didn't rush the meal, going over the events of the day. (I have noticed that the longer I sit at a table, the more I eat).

After a while we made our way to the kitchen to wash the dishes.  (Peter had already decided that the earliest time we could go to bed that wouldn't look too hasty was nine o'clock.  This was because the landlady's mother, who was in her eighties and lived in the other half of the house, would notice and tell her daughter if we went too soon).  So, it was  chores for us until nine o'clock. 

The area designated as the kitchen qualified as a kitchen because it had a 1930's gas cooker, a cream painted  larder lined with faded blue paper and a sink and draining board. All the modern housewife could possibly need! It was teeny-tiny and to close the door we both had to squeeze up to the sink, so we didn't bother.

The division of labour was decided when I said I'd wash and Peter could wipe.  The task did not take long and as I tipped the pan of soapy water down the drain I heard Peter say, 'Can I tell you something?'

I was still in happy-bride mode and turned to look at him excitedly, wondering what wonderful thing he was going to tell me.

'Wipe the draining board when you've finished.'