Although I come from working-class parents and have lived a middle-class life, for one year I truly saw how the other half lived.

I was in my mid twenties and dating a young man who simply described his family as, “a little different”. It was a world-class understatement.

Eventually I met his parents, who owned several estates, complete with livery stables, garages full of cars, and servants. Lots of servants.

We spent most of our time in his little country place, a twelve-room cottage featuring gold bathroom fixtures, bespoke fitted bedrooms, and museum-quality art.

We eventually parted as friends and still keep in touch.

I love my life today but, for that year I can now admit, I did pretend - just a little - to be “the other half”.