At a particularly boring sleepover at Richie’s house, I sneak down to his kitchen while everybody’s asleep to get a drink. I stand shirtless in some plaid pyjamas bottoms and socks, half asleep and thirsty.

I’m not sure if it’s weird to take juice from their fridge without asking… but they have cranberry. My favourite. I take out the carton and examine it, considering if I should have some or not. I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t even hear you behind me…