In my last job, the company signed us all up to a fabulous thing called perkbox. It meant I could get discounts on almost everything – food shopping, other shopping, white goods, brown goods, holidays (not that we ever go away anywhere) and a lovely little thing called tastecard. It’s a gem. It’s a virtual card that when you go out for a meal mid-week, you flash it at a waiter and you get a free meal. I call that a result.

For me the sad thing is that it’s about to expire and my current employer, although they have a supposedly similar scheme, it’s nowhere near as good and every time I’ve tried to use it, it’s been loads of hassle and I’ve not been able to get it to work.

So, with a mere four weeks before the virtual card implodes, we decided to go for a (possibly last) bit of the cherry and walk to our local restaurant for pizza. This is the wall inside the restaurant and I am fascinated by it. It’s been a long, arduous day and I REALLY didn’t want to cook. I love nipping out for a meal because we sit opposite each other and talk. On a normal weeknight, we only face one another for fifteen minutes or so while we eat a hurried meal.

More than that, we may be cheapskates but we do actually still have things we want to say to each other and I reckon after eighteen years, that’s not bad going.