We sit chatting to the couple squashed next to us who are in their seventies, and who hold hands across the table while they drink a bottle of Cava. They talk about how much joy they get from being grandparents, but how they’re happiest of all when it’s just the two of them, playing cards and listening to the radio.After they’ve left I say to James, ‘Do you ever think you’ll have what those two have?’‘Absolutely,’ he says, ‘but I’m not going to marry just anyone.’I have drunk two-thirds of the bottle of wine we’ve brought, and so although my instant reaction is to take this comment personally, I realise he must be referring to the fact that that’s why he’s never been married before.I pop to the loo and stand by the sink looking in the mirror. I haven’t weighed myself for ages but my face is looking a little gaunt. Don’t they say that as you get older your face looks better if you’re not too skinny? Typical – I’ve lived my life back to front, spent my youth a dress size over, and now that I’m an ancient thirty-three, I’m finally a dress size under.My face is quite flushed from the booze and I splash it with cold water.
