The relationship had become like a favourite jumper; it was wearing thin at the elbows and didn’t really fit any more, but neither of us had the heart to throw it out. Four years of Saturday nights and Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings had built up a level of comfortableness which was wonderful until we realised we’d somehow become friends who shared a bed. “Look how superior we are to other . . .

You don't expect to see a biscuit on display in a museum, among the sculptures and paintings. But at Reading Museum, I find myself staring at just that. It is large, round and a hundred years old. Impressed into the dusty topside of this centenarian cookie is the name "Huntley & Palmers." They once made biscuits for the royal family, for soldiers going to war and for people at home in the kitchen. Fifty-two . . .