A couple of years back, Liam lost his wedding ring. He knew not how, he knew not where. He got really upset about it, but these things happen. We put it down to his increasing decrepitude. On the other hand, as I’d put on a few pounds since we got hitched, my ring was so tight that I needed loads of lube to extricate it from my finger. So we decided to replace both rings and, at the same time, renew our vows. But who can recall what words were said all those years ago? I can barely remember what I said yesterday; I’d be next to useless in a police interview. It’s just as well we kept a copy in the loft alongside the rest of our matrimonial bits and bobs, odds and sods.

Unlike our first time around – a bit of a do with our nearest and dearest – the new ‘I dos’ were a low-key affair. Just the two of us with a bottle of bubbly as our witness.

More recently, diabetes came a-calling, and I was under doctor’s orders to fight the flab. I’ve got family form – both of my brothers are diabetic. So, it was okey-dokey doc, and chef Liam swung into action with his low-carb cookbook. And boy, he really knows his way around a sun-kissed tomato. Hey pesto, I’ve dropped a stone and a bit, and diabetes is no longer knocking – for the time being at least.

But there’s been an unexpected side effect to my new regime. My second ring is now so loose that it flies off in the shower. It’s a bit of a Goldilocks moment – ring one is too tight, ring two is too loose. Let’s hope that ring three will be just right. Because nobody likes a slack ring.

Happy 18th wedding anniversary, Liam.