He said: “Next year it’ll be your two in that paddling pool and I’m going to be unbearable about it.”

And I laughed, and I tipped my head back, and somebody took a photograph.

That is the image.

That is the whole of the content of it.

A man telling a woman who had been trying for nine years that he had a picture in his head of her children in a paddling pool, and the woman laughing at him, in a garden, in July, with a plastic tablecloth on a trestle table and somebody coming out of a back door with a cake.

“Kevin was standing right there next to us,” I said.