In recent years, following our acquisition of mobile phones, I have exchanged a message of love with my wife by text each day.

Each day, I would arrive at work and send this message “I love you, have a nice day” and my wife would reply “Love you too, you too” or it might be effected the other way round.

Whenever there has been discourse and unhappiness between us in recent years, this ritual has been suspended, and its re-in-statement has been a sign that our latest fall out has come to an end.

Last month, after a particularly bad episode of difficulty, we found each other, lost as we had been, once again, on a weekend away, just the two of us.

We had a lovely time, both of us content to move on as we have on so many occasions before, but both recognising that time for us to find lasting happiness in our marriage of thirty years is running out, and it is running out fast.

In a moment of clarity, I informed my wife that I wanted to end our ritual of sending messages each day by text.

In answer to her request for a reason, I told her that I was proposing the suspension of it because using something that was intended to be affirming and re-assuring into a weapon had so debased its purpose, that it had become futile.

I told her that I intend to leave her each morning with a hug and a kiss and a smile and if I feel inclined to say “I love you” which I usually do, then I will say it.

So better, I think, to signal the end of our love notes and to welcome the start of something deeper; something closer; something worthwhile.

My next blog will be: How I Avoided a Nervous Breakdown

William Defoe