For the first time in my life, I’m living by myself. After 39 years, this in itself is a you bloody ripper: mainly because I have my very own haven to come home to every night and the freedom to be totally selfish.

Don’t get me wrong – I like people. And I occasionally miss sharing with someone else.

But right now, I enjoy coming home from a long day at the office and listening to the music I want to. Watching a program that’s my choice. I don’t care if my toothpaste dribble stays in the sink for 24 hours. I cherish being able to cook without the remnants of a flatmate’s breakfast caked on the stove. I’m not shy about walking around naked. And I’ve proudly turned into an occasional sloth.

Yes, I get lazy. My laundry occasionally feels compelled to sit huddled on my spare couch for a week before I feel the need to fold, iron, hang and put away. When I finally feel the urge, it’s a slow process and usually done to loud 80′s music, karaoke and a random (most would say ridiculous) interpretation of classic dance moves.

For any visitors that are invited to share my haven, I therefore never guarantee a completely sparkling bathroom sink, ear plug free zone or need to step over an open novel.

One thing that is always guaranteed, is the total sense of completion once Madonna and the hairbrush is put away for another week, the hangers are hanging up and the underwear is safely in a drawer.

Empty couches are always worth appreciating.

you bloody ripper!