Small Child clambers into my bed with his teddy.

'Is that the end then?' he says.

'The end of what?'

'The story of you and Steve.'

'I suppose it is.'

'It was a sad ending wasn't it, Mummy?'

I haven't the heart to tell him that where relationships are concerned, the ending is always sad. Even the most perfect relationship ends in death at some point.

And life isn't nice and tidy like books are. The stories don't always have neat endings, the tale sometimes drags on way after everyone's bored with it, and sometimes when you think you've come to the end of the story, you turn the page to find there's a whole other chapter.

The story of me and Steve - it's over bar the shouting.

I've just had the nicest weekend for a long time.