Weekend mornings should be a time of sleepy peace and yet, perversely, Beloved always seems more restless on the weekends than on the weekdays. During the week, if he doesn’t have a meeting to go to, he’ll easily lie in bed until 11. But now, it’s a weekend, so of course he’s up and about. While we were getting ready in the bathroom he said gaily that he would have a ‘no eat day’. No comment. When I came down after him he’s in the kitchen frying up two eggs with two buttered pieces of toast ready. The place is loud with the radio and the smell of cooking. And then he comes and sits by me in my study and tells me how messy it is. I tell him it is tidier than his room. He says that one isn’t a public place. I say nor is this, it’s my room. Then he takes over my computer when I go to load the washing. I tell him to use his own computer. He storms off into the rain slamming the door behind him. He’s now in his study, little tufts of smoke coming out of his ears.