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I really like National Theatre Live days. It’s Easy Theatre. I know I’m going to get a good view, a comfy seat and a regular bus back home on leaving the cinema. The simplicity and ease of access has meant that I’ve drastically reduced my visits to the big ole brick on the South Bank. My once close and cosy relationship with the National has wained.

We were once close friends that met up regularly for a boozy giggle, to hang out, listen to music and exchange gifts (I gave NT money, she gave me books). Now, its more like a Facebook friendship. She just beams her successes at me and I’ll mutely give a thumbs up. She might never even know I was there.

The number of screenings have stayed pretty much the same since broadcasts started, only my consumption of them has changed. Its as addictive as sitting on a sofa staring blankly at the telly with a bag of pickled onion Monster Munch. At first I saw NT Live as a great way for me to see even more than I usually would, but two years later, it feels more like I’ve been weaned off the real deal. I don’t automatically think to go round her house when I’m in the neighbourhood anymore. I don’t check to see if she’s been in touch with an email. We’ve dumped each other, and we hadn’t even noticed.

And as the National is business and not a girl, our relationship over the past two years can best be summarised in the pounds I’ve willingly handed over.

At least now that I’ve realised our relationship has changed I can start to move on. I can be happy for her that she’s found thousands of new pals, staying one step ahead of the crowd and generally doing very well for herself. I’ll still check in now and again. But in releasing me as live-in lover, she’s given me freedom to roam, be more explorative and help other theatres to flourish by spending by buying them a G&T.