Saturday 26th August – eveningHumps has already got dinner ready. He always cooks at weekends. On Saturday evenings, after his afternoons playing tennis, it is cold meat, salad and boiled potatoes. What has changed is the time, eight o’clock, way past his Englishman’s habit of dining at six-thirty.
“Your hair looks nice.”
“Thanks, darling, I’m glad you like it. New hairdresser.”
He isn’t bothered.
“Got the ice-creams for tomorrow from Zia. They’re in the freezer.”
“Cassata, isn’t it? I’m looking forward to that,” he says.
“Darling, I was just thinking, about Brexit, could we please keep off the subject tomorrow?”
“I’ll try, but if others bring it up, I’m not backing down. I’ll say what I think. It’s not good for banking, and it’s our livelihood we’re talking about.”
“But you’ll be
