“I always hate saying goodbye to Caroline – I love her so much that I can’t bear to leave her,” said Chris’s old friend Jo putting his arm around Caroline’s waist.

“I feel exactly the same,” Caroline snuggled against Jo’s broad chest adding, “and it’s all down to you two for introducing us.”

“When first I fell in with love with Chris his visits were never long enough – no matter the length of time we spent together, I always felt it was not enough,” I responded, for a moment remembering those days when I could hardly bear the partings.

Actually it was I who, fancying that our beautiful friend and neighbour would be a perfect match for Jo, cajoled Chris into inviting her to come over to meet the handsome singleton on our terrace one sunny afternoon last summer. Initially reluctant (owing to his reserve) Chris bowed to my “woman’s intuition” and a very convivial time was had by all (especially Jo, who was instantly besotted). Over the ensuing months a friendship developed and love blossomed recently – and how! Isn’t it good to proved right?

Over breakfast this morning Chris and I catted about events the day before.

“I noticed you didn’t say anything when I told Jo and Caroline that I could never get enough of you,” I said, a little piqued.

“You know I’m reserved,” said Chris defensively, “besides, you made it sound like it was all in the past.”

– “Well I couldn’t go around ‘moonstruck’ for nineteen years….”

-“Well I still feel the same way!”

-“Then you should show it by making the appropriate comment when I say something nice! You’re so similar to ‘Doc Martin’ (the character played by Martin Clunes in the British comedy of the same name – he has Asperger’s Syndrome).”

“I’m nothing like him,” Chris said (sounding quite like him!).

My mum (alias Supergran) phoned asking Chris for help with her new washing machine (she can stop trains and speeding bullets but she can’t turn on the washing machine!). So, being a wonderful and dutiful son-in-law (if not so thoughtful a husband), Chris dashed down the road to save the day.

Chris returned with a French tart (the strawberry variety), which he promptly divided that we might share equally in a slightly naughty, but small, early lunch. Then, “in a single bound”, he went out again to look at Supergran’s number four cycle on the new washing machine (Supergran had called again, threatening to hurl – faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive – the new machine under a hurtling locomotive!).

“I’m going to improve. I’ll be a better husband for you,” Chris said quickly in mid-bound.

“Ah, but you’ve said that before,” I tutted.

“This time will be different,” Clark flew out the door.

Now, after my sweet fix, and pondering on my own for a while, I’m very glad I mouthed the words “I love you” through the glass door of my studio as he looked across whilst bounding up the steps.