My husband and I are back in our wedding night suite after nearly 27 years of marriage. It should be cause for celebration, and I am smiling.
However, inside I feel a gnawing sense of trepidation. The decor has changed — it’s funkier, modern — but it still takes me back.
Last time we were in Room 345, at St Ermin’s Hotel in Central London, in the autumn of 1997, Phil was 24 and I was 27. I was in