I am in the throes of starting a new job while the Missus has taken voluntary redundancy, so I'm currently working longer hours while she's enjoying the prospect of well-deserved time off away from the giddy world of being an editor in the homes magazine market.
I'd already expressed concern that this could mean I would become her latest project to micro-manage, which she denied – and then told me to make her a cuppa while she decided what we were doing at the weekend.
But she is becoming a new woman and starting to do lots of things she's always been interested in, such as pottery and craft stuff, and some stuff that she actively dislikes but wants to do anyway, like running. She even had my tea on the table when I got back from work late three times this week.
I was starting to fear I make have broken her and my feisty, sarcastic girl was in danger of becoming some sort of Stepford Wife.
Then we met in the pub last night and I was greeted by the following words:
'I ran for 30 minutes today and I was sweating like a fat lass after a cake.'
On the way home she then bought me a kebab. Maybe she's not broken after all.
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