Something was always slightly wrong, but perhaps perfection is overrated anyway. We got up in the morning like any other. I came downstairs, Bo put the kettle on, and we sat at the table to drink our morning tea. Ran the water in the sink to wash the pots, I have this terrible habit of leaving them until the next morning; by the time we have finished dinner and I have done a million other things, I just can’t be bothered. So I don’t. I washed the pots, went upstairs to get dr
