Sunshine rushing through the windows and filling the room with sunlight, to the very edges, lighting each shadow, in turn. Driving through the countryside, spotting our future mansions thorough the dappled sunlight made from canopies of vibrant green trees and flimsy branches twisting out from old and wise sturdy trunks. Walking along Clevedon pier for £1.50. Memorial plaques on every plank of wood. Marshmallowy cream in a Victoria Sponge cake. Discussing the world on a bench. An elderly couple congratulating a fisherman on his catch. Sunning in the garden, a birthday BBQ with friends, exciting news still tingling through the air. A late walk through the gardens, birds lolling around, singing good evening. Catching our breath with another day of light. A (20 (twenty) mile) bike ride through the countryside and villages. A sunburnt nose. Books flapping as we nap in the wild garden. Limey g&t’s with friends and the buzz of excitement with plans and basking in the day. In the now. A weekend. That felt a week long. As happy as two pigs spooning in the early evening spring sunshine.