I found myself alone at home yesterday - a very rare occurence for me. I can't remember the last time I was alone, since I got married and became a mother. It was a treat to potter about the apartment, doing exactly as I pleased, listening to Jeff Buckley, Ella Fitzgerald and Antonio Carlos Jobim, singing along at the top of my lungs, without eyeballs rolling left, right and centre, while sipping a little wine, just before lunch, in between the laundry, ironing and scrubbing.

Of course I l...