I remember how much I used to love the Friday night ritual of opening a bottle of wine with my ex, Tom*, after he had got home from work. He worked longer hours than me and I used to listen out for the sound of his car on the driveway. If it was winter, we would opt for a nice malbec in front of the fire or, on summer evenings, a sauvignon blanc or rose in the garden.
Tom and I met at university almost 20 years ago, and we were never what you would call big drinkers, at least not since we had had our two children, who are now nine and 11. But there was something about that sense of camaraderie of sharing a drink together that united us.
