In a bright studio flat in Paddington Olive, awoke this first Saturday of Spring. She and Jack had been seeing each other for eight months. They didn’t live together yet. Every Friday after work they would take the tube to a different underground station and walk back to Jack’s house, via a pub or three. Hand in hand, just them two. Not even Siri and her navigational skills were invited. This was about the romance of the wander. The best bit was coming across an open deli and picking up supplies for the Saturday morning cook-off. This is exactly what caused Olive to stir. That smell of bacon sizzling. The sound of garlic and kale and mushrooms being chopped. Coffee on. Bliss.

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