Wednesday, September 7

At The Vyne, Basingstoke

The planks beneath me lift and creak as two ladies sink their bottoms onto the bench beside me. 'Ah... it's a long way down, and a long way back up again'. They sit and watch the butterflies kissing the purpley-blue verbena over and over. The summer is nearly over. One of them lets out a word like blowing a perfect soap-bubble: 'bliss'.