The First Separation (by Kate)

Before now, the longest Theo and I had spent apart since we got together was two nights, so a seven-day separation was going to be an interesting experiment. Could I still remember how to cook for myself? Would I remember details like doing the laundry? How would I fare without the daily backgammon challenge?

Theo obviously shared some of my concerns, because before he departed he cooked extra portions of moussaka and vegetable korma to put in the freezer in case I went hungry. Believe me, there was never any danger of that - apart from an uncomfortable period when I was suffering with acute IBS (the most effective and unpleasant weight-loss plan I have ever experienced), I have always relished my nosh.

Of course, there are aspects of solo living which are wonderful - things like retiring to bed early with a book and not disturbing anyone else when you read it for hours; dining as and when you like without being barked at for procrastinating when food is ready; devoting yourself to nattery girly get-togethers without any guilt about neglecting your beloved and faffing around on the computer without someone else drumming their fingers while they wait for their turn.

But of course, I missed him very much. And not just his proven abilities in the domestic sphere (he really is a most excellent manslave). Telephone conversations, even with strict instructions not to forget to be loving and not to sound too impatient to end the call (Theo's telephone style with me in the past has been business-like to the point of being curt) just aren't the same.

Most of all, the week apart made me freshly appreciate the affectionate, devoted man I married. Absence may not make the heart grow fonder, but it definitely makes you wake up to what you've got.