“And I also know that love is a pretty quiet thing. It’s lying on the sofa together drinking coffee, talking about where you’re going to go that morning to drink more coffee. It’s folding down pages of books you think they’d find interesting. It’s hanging up their laundry when they leave the house having moronically forgotten to take it out of the washing machine. It’s the texts: ‘Hope today goes well’, ‘How did today go?’, ‘Thinking of you today’ and 'Picked up loo roll.’ I know that love happens under the splendour of moon and stars and fireworks and sunsets but it also happens when you’re lying in blow-up air beds in a childhood bedroom, sitting in A&E or in the queue for a passport or a traffic jam. Love is a quiet, reassuring thing: something you can easily forget is there, even though its palms are outstretched beneath you in case you fall.”
