It is all damn odd to get used to. To avoid me being nitpickily possessive about bloody Christmas tree ornaments, I suggested the children pick me out some for my tree while they were decorating his. They have picked all the wooden ones which I do like but they think are boring, and only about six. I am grown-up. I can cope. On Saturday we will all go and pick some new ones. But I am annoyed that he is the one that doesn't care about stuff and sentimental value and history and atmosphere and he is the one who has got all of it.