I base my happiness on what I like and want regardless of other people’s opinions.

Most choices come with an imagined audience attached. You picture the person who would raise an eyebrow at the car, the course, the paint colour on the front door — and you adjust half a degree before you have even noticed.

The odd thing is how rarely the audience turns out to be real. The neighbours have their own front doors to think about.

Anyone who paints theirs mustard yellow finds out quickly that two people comment, one of them likes it, and the rest of the street never mentions it at all.

Which leaves you with the door. You are the one who walks through it every day.