Coffee?’ he called from downstairs.I went and looked down from the low wall overlooking the kitchen. ‘Yes, please.’‘Real coffee, or instant?’‘Instant’s good,’ I said, and went downstairs to see him reach down two mugs from a shelf in his beige and steel kitchen.‘Milk?’ he asked, spooning instant coffee from a metal canister.‘Yes, please.’He added milk, filled both mugs from a tap in the corner of the sink and passed one over.I looked at it doubtfully – I hadn’t expected to have to request specifically that my coffee be made with hot water – and saw a reassuring wisp of steam. ‘Do you have boiling water on tap?’ I asked.‘Yep. Cool, eh?’‘Extremely cool,’ I said.‘And the fridge makes its own ice.’‘Far out, brussel sprout.’‘I know. It’s pretty incredible,’ he said.‘Do you have a robot to do your vacuuming, like on The Jetsons?’‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Sorry.’‘Oh well, never mind. The tap’s still impressive.’‘Thanks.’ He leant over and kissed me. ‘Good morning.’‘Good morning.’'What do you want to do today?’‘Whatever you like,’ I said dreamily. ‘I don’t mind.’‘You’re really not the high-maintenance type, are you?’‘I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security,’ I explained. ‘Then I’ll start demanding fur coats and Porsches.’‘I see,’ said Mark.