I owe you all an apology. I know many of you were wondering what I decided to do since Stefan got down on one knee and proposed to me. To be honest, I did a Scarlet O’Hara on it; I decided I’d think about it tomorrow, and tomorrow didn’t come until a few nights ago.

At the time of the proposal, I told Stefan I needed time to think. But I didn’t tell him how much time I needed and, what’s more, I haven’t done any thinking. I packed him off to the farm in Lisnapookybawna and gave him a supply of food and a list of jobs to do while I took time to digest the import of his intentions. A girl gets very protective of her space when a man is trying to invade it.

Anyway, I only got around to considering the situation a few nights ago, not long after the big wind that never was. Let me go back to that.

Last week you’ll remember there were dire weather predictions about a looming storm. The warnings we got would make you feel as if the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah would be nothing compared to what was about to befall us.

Maurice and I went to our beds the night before the impending calamity and carried with us flashlights, spare batteries and bundles of candles. We needn’t have bothered – there was hardly a gust of wind strong enough to scatter the last bunch of leaves stuck outside the back porch.

However, two nights later we suffered a power cut here in Killdicken. It happened in the middle of the night and I woke to hear Maurice trying to find his way around the bathroom, attempting to answer a nocturnal call of nature. We hadn’t a spark of light or a bit of heat in the house.

Eventually, Maurice managed to respond to the call in a relatively targeted fashion and I made my way down to the living room with the aid of a little flashlight I keep on the key ring of my car keys.

After rooting around, I found a few candles and by the time I managed to see the clock I discovered ’twas only five in the morning. I thought about ringing the ESB but I realised you need your customer number and the dates of birth of your great grandparents before they’ll entertain you. I decided that it was all too much trouble so I went back to bed. On my way I detoured to check in on Maurice but he was snoring his head off in his temporary bedroom in the parlour. He certainly wasn’t concerned about the cause of the blackout or the general state of the universe.

I decided to take a leaf out of his book and went back to the bed. I couldn’t sleep.

I don’t know about you, but when I’m lying on the bed and can’t sleep I don’t get frustrated, I use the opportunity to do my thinking. I suppose there’s nothing like the still of the night to clarify one’s thoughts and so my mind turned to Stefan’s proposal of marriage. What was I going to do?

You see, I have been an independent woman for two decades and you get used to having no one to answer to.

I know that over the years I’ve had Maurice to deal with, but he’s a bit of occupational therapy for me – trying to keep him out of trouble keeps my brain active and giving out to him on a regular basis keeps my tongue sharp.

On the other hand, it’s nice to have Stefan around. I feel he takes the bare look off me and we have developed a little world of our own. Along with the good company, at my age I could do with a bit of extra heat in the bed.

Now, as for any other nocturnal capers, I don’t want to comment. I know you are all wondering if we are up to anything and whether or not we are driving on the provisional license, so to speak. Well, that’s something a lady does not talk about. All I will say is that while Stefan is no George Clooney, he has awoken bits of me that I thought had gone to sleep for good.

As the night turned to day, I ended my cogitation on the marriage proposal by deciding two things. Number one: I’m going to put Stefan off for at least six months. Number two: I’m keeping the ring – at least until I’ve made my mind up fully. When I told this to Maurice he threw his eyes up to heaven

“Typical woman,” he said.

“What do you mean by typical woman?”

“He gave you the ring, and you’re givin’ him the finger.”

“How dare you talk to your Mother like that.”