Waking up in Canterbury, the sun is incredibly bright coming through the big square window. It pleads with us to wake up, but we resist, clinging to dusky noontime sleep. I finally wake up, and lazily finish off a book I have been reading (Tunnel Visions by Chistopher Ross, pleasant read). After one of the most soothing low-pressure showers I have had in a long time, I type into this machine and recount the very mellow events of the day thus far.

I am visiting a very old friend, Sierra Fisk. It’s really good to see her again, and the sun is shining. Today feels good.