Occasionally, very occasionally, you stop and realise you’re in the middle of a perfect moment. And the best thing, for once, it feels as great as it should. 

A grey Sunday afternoon, the day after the night before, spent with best friends, in a castle, sitting on sofas in front of a fire with bubbly and ‘afternoon tea’, doing absolute nothing. 

It’s a brag, I know, but sometimes when you pause and notice exactly where you are, you realise the smell is very much of roses.