Coming back to London on Monday, shoulders brown, bag full of asparagus and the first of the roses nestled in damp kitchen roll, legs scratched from digging up thistles in the soon-to-be potato bed. A run in Regent's Park as the sun lowered, good to be running after two weeks of very little exercise (I feel the same). Dinner of pasta, asparagus, olive oil, lemon zest, Parmesan - stretching out the holiday feeling out to its final moments.
Work on Tuesday, feeling glum, skies clouded over to match my mood. It isn't that I dislike my job, indeed it is a perfectly acceptable way to pass the time, but given a choice between discovering hidden cocktail bars in the back streets of NYC, lazing on a daisy scattered Norfolk lawn or sitting behind a computer in an artificially lit office, I would definitely plump for either of the former, no question.