It’s Sunday evening. I’m cooking Duck a L’orange and Cairo is wandering around as music plays in the kitchen. There’s a log fire and Milo is asleep in front of it.

I went to a wake yesterday and was mildly surprised to find that I was the first speaker, I hadn’t prepared and had never met him.

It seemed ok when I spoke, I’m fairly good at bullshit. I left early for two reasons.

Firstly, I’d arranged to meet somebody new from Twitter

Secondly, one of my oldest and best friends told me he was terminal this week and I couldn’t quite trust myself not to get maudlin.

It was a good call.

I had a fantastic, wide ranging conversation that spanned decades.

And books. And films. And jobs. And parents. And robot lawnmowers. And lived experiences. And writing . And doglets. Particularly rescue doglets.

Genuinely a great evening.

Take a moment for yourself when you read this. Have a drink of something nice, call an old friend or tell somebody you love them. Or cuddle your own doglet.

Life can be good.

If we allow it