Do you have a former flatmate who was your best friend, who liked the same stuff as you, introduced you to new stuff that you loved, picked up the pieces when your life fell apart and was always available for a cigarette or a rant if you needed either, even in the middle of the night? I, fortunate woman that I am, have lived with two perfect flatmates. They are both called Martin and I would live with both of them again in a heartbeat, were I living in a commune, which at present I am not.
But that’s OK because both of them let me visit from time to time. Before Sweeney – which is what we call the second Martin for reasons none of us seems to know – met Verena, we used to meet in pubs. But now they live in a beautiful flat and they lay on lavish parties and give people vast amounts of food and booze, because Verena is an exceptionally accomplished hostess, as well as being charming, funny and very elegant. So three cheers for Verena, both the Martins and everyone else who somehow became a grown-up without me noticing.
Happy Christmas, Verena!