For 14 years you were mine, and I was yours.
Summer 2011. There was...
...cheese and wine...
...books and lemonade...
...the Thames...
...the Thames again...
...that plant that looks kind of like a Triffid...
...and in between all that there was bad british morning television, good british late night quiz shows, Carluccio's superior coffee, too much banoffee pie, breakfast at The Parlour and steak in West India Quay and drinks at Waitrose, skipping over to South Bank to have dolmades and flatbread in the evening or espresso and croissant at Nero in the morning or browse for books in the National Theatre bookshop; there was us jumping up and glueing ourselves to the window whenever the old labrador went by on his daily walk, there was The Office marathons and Pride & Prejudice marathons and gaping at how much wine the participants in Come Dine With Me can drink in one night; there was fashionable artsy red wine in fashionable artsy Old Street while surreptitious scanning the buildings for Banksy art like a tourist, finding actually tasty(!) ice cream late at night in an ice cream bar in Kensington, drifting off on the twin's offensively ugly but extremely comfy balcony sofa on lazy mornings while completely forgetting about the rest of the world, and it was lovely.
