Outside our window and a long way down we watch two people thrust their black plastic binbags, some sleeping bags and a chair into the rubbish bin behind the Metropolitan. It will be safe there for the rest of the day, the bin men have just finished this road. They embrace lingeringly and I realise that one of them is a woman. He seems reluctant to let her go. But go she must and they head off, separate, hoodies pulled up, wrapped against the sometimes bitter wind that blows. Upstairs, wrapped in white dressing gowns and waiting for a bottle of wine, I cry and you hold me.