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		Secrets of Life - No. 27 Obviously, the vital thing to do on meeting the Right Man, is to scare the living daylights out of him. * Introduce him to a selection of dysfunctional family members and have your eighty-four year old mother read him endless poems in a foreign language. * Abduct him from his familiar, friendly life in Islington in favour of a solitary ruined finca on a wind-raked mountain-side in Andalucia. Then abandon him there with no electricity or water while you commute to London. * Wait until he has puts down tentative roots, your phone has finally been installed, and he knows how to order a glass of La Guita y un cafe cortado. Then pack up and drag him to Italy. Dan has put up with all this, and quite a few other things We have now – and I hope finally - settled in Umbria, in a vast rattly farmhouse, with our ancient Boxer, Oscar. The farmhouse was a remarkable bargain because it is vast and rattly, and so damp that tufty green mould grows like a cute little lawn on the soles of my shoes. We are hurtling towards penury with a crazy ambition to install a kitchen and a bathroom. Dan is busy with cartoons, and I am experimenting with scriptwriting. Along with half the known world And, yes, it was the right move. Dan never got the hang of the Flamenco, but come to the Moiano festa and marvel at our Mazurka, rhapsodise at our rumba…