I’ve chosen photos from our albums without you in them: my 21st birthday, my graduation, my first flat, my first house, the first Christmas without my grandma, me above the clouds at the top of Ben Nevis with my sister, my first kitten, my dogs, my last Christmas with my nana, my first trip to Italy, me dancing like an Egyptian at the Pyramids, my parents kissing in Vienna, laughing with my family in the park, my first dive, sitting on the bonnet on the Pacific Coast Highway, my first 10K. You both took great photos.

I wore sunglasses for a month. Then I started to feel like a bit of a tit.

I moved twelve times in nine years to find a new home, each time finding a few things that were less important than the last time they were carefully wrapped and packed.

I discovered that I don’t need a chipped bowl, a cardigan with a coffee stain, a photo of the Duomo that was never properly framed, half a set of candle holders, insurance documents for rings I no longer own, a cracked makeup mirror from the National Gallery, half a set of placements, a lighter & cigarette case (I no longer smoke), half a tool kit, bed linen for beds we no longer own, cassette compilations a decade after ditching my last tape player, half of a story that made everyone laugh each time we told it, a wholesale supply of micropore tape (I no longer bite my nails), keys for properties we no longer own, half a conversation that ripped us in four, small change in lira, francs or pesetas.