We built a blanket fort. We're in our thirties.

The boiler broke on a Saturday afternoon in November. No engineer until Monday. The flat was freezing.

So we did what any sensible adults would do: we dragged every duvet, cushion and throw we owned into the living room and built a fort.

It took an hour. It collapsed twice. At one point the clothes horse was holding up the entire roof and we were both crying with laughter.

Then we strung up the fairy lights from last Christmas, made hot chocolate, and crawled inside.

Something about it felt like being nineteen again. No phones, because the signal was rubbish under three duvets. No telly. Just the two of us, shoulder to shoulder, talking nonsense and then, slowly, not talking at all.

The boiler got fixed on Monday. The fort stayed up until Wednesday.

We've since built two more. On purpose.