As I was getting changed into my comfy clothes, I pulled a pair of socks from my drawer. Realising that they didn’t match my sweater, I put them back and pulled out a pair that did.

Then I laughed. I had to laugh or I would have cried. I have been single for the better part of a decade, so I’m fairly sure it doesn’t matter an iota if my socks don’t match my sweater.

Because for the 487th Saturday night in a row, this was the night ahead of me. And I’m fairly sure Ryan won’t notice my socks!