Last week, as I sat in my study, with my back to the window, I heard the sound of excited childish voices. There was a knock on the door, just afterwards. I look out and see my granddaughter and grandson, aged four and two, respectively. “Grandad,” she cries, her face beaming with enthusiasm. This followed closely by another “Grandad” from her brother, beaming excitedly, too.

I wave and hit the windowpane, in pleasure. Their father stands in the background. Soon my wife, Alison, comes down from her study at the top of the house and joins me. “Nanny,” the children both shout, with yet greater enthusiasm. Then, 10 seconds later, already looking for something new, they turn and run off. All is still.

These two of our five grandchildren live around the corner, with our daughter and her husband. We are used to having them regularly in our house. When will that happen again?