And a boyfriend. The boyfriend brings out the worst of her. About half an hour after I'd written that, I actually called the police, because the screaming had reached a pitch and shape that made me worry about real violence. It seems to have died down since.

For five years, I have felt myself quite snug in this flat, although it is a rathole in some ways. It suits me in terms of space and location. But if I have to go on living with her, I am beginning to wonder whether moving might not be a notion.