I do love the fact that, in retirement, my parents are busier than ever. My mum has been visiting this week, and she’s literally squeezing it in between family engagements at home.

“Why are you only staying five days,” my older son keeps asking. “Last time, you stayed seven.” (he’s keeping tally)

“And where’s Grandad?” (Kids like a full set, don’t they? But Dad couldn’t come as he had commitments for the various charities he’s involved with, plus he’s fitting in FOUR rounds of golf.)

But it’s not just keeping busy that fills my parents’ time – my Mum is continually doing things to the house, and if I haven’t been home for a few months, it’s amazing what changes.

“Well, the guest bathroom is finished, and we’ve got new brown, leather sofas in the living room,” she told me today.

“Then there’s the traffic light in the garage.”

Who knew that British driveways near stations are paved with gold?

“Seriously?” I replied.

“Yes, Dad’s new car is very long. The traffic light changes from green to amber to red, telling him exactly when to stop so he doesn’t crash into my freezer.

“And we have a Porsche parked outside now.”

“A WHAT!” I exclaimed (I mean, if it was Dubai, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid, but my parents live in suburban England where I presume those kind of cars still cost a fortune).

“Yes,” she smiled. “Parkatmyhouse.com. We registered on the website, and a young man turns up in his Porsche at 7 every morning, leaves it in our drive and walks to the station.

“Never see him, but presume he’s one of those, you know, city types.”

What an ingenious way to turn living in the commuter belt into a little earner.