This evening’s bubbly is in my favourite glass – a tall one from friend Tara one Christmas. It has “A ? Christmas for Bubbles” written on it – one of the words scratched off. Four plump raspberries bob around the surface, tiny bubbles rise constantly up the glass. The glass is wet with condensation. Birds twitter as usual and my incense stick’s smell is deeply satisfying, evoking memories of holidays. It’s a very balmy evening, nearly 7.30pm and still daylight, the sun a big round ball hovering. I have to look past banana tree fronds to see it. I’m hot, my face sweaty, even though I dipped in the icy pool not long ago.

It’s Thursday. The new Friday in a way because for now at least Friday is work from home day, long may that last. But I feel the tide is turning away from the joy of work from home. A slow but obvious shift towards being in the office is becoming more and more apparent. So, I tell myself, enjoy it while you can.

I’ve spent the last half hour lost in my phone – the online world of emails, texts, whatsapp groups, messenger groups, which led me somehow to be listening to “Old Friends” by Simon and Garfunkel. I know that song so well from my youth – imagined these friends on their park bench. “How terribly strange to be 70!” – that line always struck me. Terribly strange, and terribly sudden. Ok, I’m only a mere 55, but I feel how terribly strange to suddenly be 55. How?