The smashed pick-up truck was delivered back to us after I burst into tears and began wailing at the recovery man.

When all else fails, men usually cave in to what I like to call tear pressure. Their brains scream ‘Make it stop!’ and they’ll do pretty much anything.

The tears gushed out of my eyes very easily as I stood in that recovery yard two days after the builder boyfriend had been hit head-on by a driver speeding down the wrong side of the road who smashed into him at such force that he took apart the entire driver’s side and undercarriage of his Mitsubishi L200.

The truck was still on the low loader that had brought it back from the crash site as I stood there demanding its return. This was odd, I thought. Wouldn’t they have taken it off the truck by now? It looked like it was loaded up again ready to go somewhere…

How we loved that truck. The model was Warrior and suited the BB so well. He bought it from a couple in London who had taken it on a round-the-world trip before they found themselves on the wrong side of the Ulez border.

It came to us in Surrey and then the BB drove it to West Cork when we moved. It was often loaded up with hay bales and did every conceivable kind of job with uncomplaining toughness.

He had just done the oil change on it and hoped to keep it going. It was the last........

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