Knock, knock. Who’s there? Well, according to the app it was the Evri man at 10.27, the Yodel man at 11.17, the post lady at 13.44 and the nursery-run mum with double buggy at 15.22. What romance, what mystery in the age of the Ring doorbell? Every coming and going, every missed parcel and key fumble is filmed, timestamped and sent to my husband’s phone with a notification.

We resisted Ring for two years. Two years of a broken doorbell and delivery drivers hammering on the door. Over the summer we caved and now the house is monitored night and day. ‘Must make it difficult,’ I mused to Andy as we reviewed the footage on the first evening, ‘for anyone to have affairs any more.’ Not that I want to, just what would love and literature be if not for the clandestine knock in the night? How do y

See Full Page