‘Recently’ has been full of fresh air, baking with summer fruits (pretending it is not as cold as it is, that is the order of the day) and winding walks with people I love. W kindly hosted me at his house in the rolling hills. Up high on a hilltop the city can be seen – what’s a tangle of silver, metal, glass up close is transformed into slender envelopes of white, barely there unless one squints (or borrows a boyfriend’s glasses.) Seeing the city from afar made me very glad I was not in it, but instead removed from all that restless activity, watching from a hilltop in the sun.  

We walked up and down, across hills, through woods, beside fences, alongside hedges, past statues, overshadowed by trees. Came across a yellow house with green shutters, perfect in its ageing beauty, old men sitting in deckchairs on the lawn. Let’s live there when we are old  and no longer care about professions or cities. We can have climbing roses and fresh sunlight trickling through the windows. Mint tea on the balcony at twilight. I was struck by the sweetness of the air. Fresh as a daisy to these 22-year-old suburban lungs.


On Tuesday I visited the library and sucked buttermints next to an old lady and read reams about the Holocaust memorial while W worked. Later we met at the farm for a blustery lunch in the sun. In the afternoon I watched a goat being milked, stroked a duckling, held a beautiful lamb with legs which were learning to walk.


We drove home in the fading light of the newly welcomed (and much adored) British Summertime. Took a few (unplanned) detours, talked about Germany, ate farm-baked cakes and drank water, hummed to a pleasing mixture of songs. W is very kind and my favourite travelling companion.


I have not very much to say lately. Most everything I write feels contrived or self-centred, and I’m trying to be less of both. But I have held a lamb, which made me very happy, enjoyed the company of favourites and drunk a lot of coffee. The end of winter is actually turning out to be a large helping of fun.