I'm completely not used to having a boyfriend around the flat so much. Forgot all about him the other morning, and was happily pottering around the laundry room when suddenly realised there was a naked stranger looming behind me.
You'll be pleased to hear I didn't think "boyfriend" but instead "psychokiller" and screamed. I would have thrown socks, but there weren't any to hand.
Hmph. Perhaps I should have gone with my first instinct and got a cat.
Meanwhile, not only does he not "get" Radio Four, but he really doesn't like it. The other day I was woken up by my clock radio being passed across to me with a disapproving look.