Like all fantasies of domestic bliss, mine miss the mark by a mile, mainly due to a combination of rushing, laziness and lack of space. I know how to do it, but I have chosen atmosphere over function. The bed linen lives in a dimly lit Chinese cupboard tucked away in the children’s bedroom, where gaining access is a weekly task along the lines of Mission: Impossible. My clothes live in a set of vintage metal sports lockers — in what I laughingly call my ‘dressing room’ — which in reality also provide storage for empty cardboard boxes, suitcases and extra glasses for parties, etc. Oh the joy of city living.