Of course Philip’s had his own room for forty years now, but it was only last month that I decided that enough was enough; not just the snoring, but shouting out all sorts of obscenities in his sleep. So I couldn’t carry on having the room next to his.

It’s been quite a change sleeping at the front, but better in many ways. Can’t hear a dicky bird from hubby, and I like the sun coming in in the morning. Sets one up for the day, sunshine on your bed. Never got that on the garden side.

Can’t hear a dicky bird from the dicky birds either, which is great. The garden’s absolutely thick with them, and the racket! Where I am now’s not far from the park – you can see it across the road, but still, the dawn chorus is pleasantly distant.

I was surprised that I didn’t mind the traffic. Of course, in London it never completely stops, but there’s not really a lot at night outside ours.

No, the only problem is the occasional oik shouting in the street in the small hours.

Sometimes it’s apparently well intentioned, but still very unwelcome, such as ‘I fucking love yoooooou Liz!’. But more often it’s one of those sad republicans, with their ‘String ’em up, all the bloody royals!’

There’s not a lot the police can do about it unless they hang around and repeat it a couple of times. The corgis would give them something to remember but it would take them so long to get from my bedroom down to the front gate. They might never find their way there, or back anyway; they’re none too bright.

I did enquire about having the window double glazed, and apparently if you buy one you get one free; I saw it on the telly. So Philip could have his done too. But would you believe it, Westminster Council say it’s out of the question due to Grade 1 listed status. What? I thought. Who’s in charge, one, or Westminster flipping Council? Well, it turns out they are. The country’s gone mad.