Joseph has lived in Paris for 13 months … and now in four homes. When Joseph announced he was moving in to a new place, Padma and I evoked that unwritten rule which says mom and dad will come with the station wagon to help the university student move. And so we drove to Paris, packed up his stuff in the old place in the south of Paris, braved the central Parisian traffic chaos and eventually landed at his new home in the north.

OK. Joe didn’t have to twist our arms much to spend a weekend in Paris. He insisted he could manage but Padma and I aren’t adapting well to being empty nesters so we insisted he needed our help. We weren’t entirely thrilled with hauling his worldly possessions up six floors of a spiral staircase. I had to stop breathlessly at every floor with an excuse to admire the hardwood staircase and railing which has been well polished by former tenants who climbed those same stairs for many decades.

We moved Joe into the 20 square metres which he will now call home in Paris’s 10th arrondissement and then we had one final task. Padma wanted to demonstrate that even in the smallest of kitchens you can produce great results. So we stocked up Joe’s pantry and before long that long stairway leading up to Joe’s place on the sixth floor was filled with the most delectable aromas of a roast chicken.

Welcome to your new home, Joe.