My castle, my books.

...a languid Mexican actress read a poem with much tenderness followed by Harold reading it with much passion. It was 'Paris'. I wanted to dig Silvia Fuentes in the ribs and say: 'That's written to me, you know.' I felt an extraordinary tingle when my eyes met Harold's at the end of this, the first poem, written during our first 'honeymoon' at the Lancaster Hotel in 1975 and he gave me a small private smile. -Must You Go? My Life with Harold Pinter, Antonia Fraser

May we all be so in love, deep into our 70s.