When I'm on a break from writing, I'll log on to Amazon and eBay. The doorbell is constantly being rung by deliverymen.

It really is the year 2007. Which means I must be... Oh my God. I'm twenty-eight. I'm old.

Becky! Love!" Mum has pushed her way through her dancing guests to reach me. "What's wrong? Has labor started?" Honestly. My family has no idea about contemporary urban street dance trends.

My voice is clotted with unshed tears.

Youth is still where you left it, and that's where it should stay. Anything that was worth taking on life's journey, you'll already have taken with you.

Women need chocolate. It's a scientific fact.

Every time I mention her, Magnus says, "Are you two getting along?" in raised, hopeful tones, like we're endangered pandas who need to make a baby.