It’s Sunday evening and the sun is still fairly high in a clear ish sky, I have a beer that’s refracting the remaining rays into amber patterns onto my table and I have music playing in the background – Uktravox at this very moment, a track called We Stand Alone.

The dogs are in the house somewhere, most likely dozing in their favoured spots, sofas and fluffy beds and I have a clear view of the hills for a change.

It’s barely stopped raining for days now, both at home and in the Bath area, the roads and fields are flooded, with fields pouring out their excess into small streams that gurgle by the side of the road.

As for the state of the country generally, let’s not go there. Morgan McSweeney has just resigned, another casualty of Calamity Keir.

I’ve been letting myself go with the flow for a few weeks, with Wednesday night being a prime example.

Out with some of the team after work for dinner.

Take the drunkest of them into The Raven to glory in the spot where Starmer was ejected from a few years ago.

Bump into other people.

Merge the drinking.

Go with the drunkest of them to a Cuban bar where we drink rum cocktails that they set on fire.

And so on.

I have no real master-plan for work so it’s been sort of fun to just see what happens when you throw some comments into meetings to see how people jump.

And it’s made me appreciate home and the doglets more, their leaping around and frenzied barking and licking when I walk through the door could make a statue smile.

They follow me around more when I’m at home, just in case I escape again and they cling tight on the sofa and at bedtime.

Cairo colonises my legs, hardly moving at all, while Milo takes some time to finally settle by my ear, his breathing making soft susurrations that help me drift off too.

We wake early on work days to walk in the dark, their little light up collars making them seem somehow different, little otherworldly creatures bouncing along with tails wagging and just living for the moment.

Every moment is there for them to enjoy, they don’t think of the future, the wider world or any of our pedestrian concerns.

They love absolutely and it’s in the small moments that I share with them that I could almost believe in a deity.

But a deity of sun and snow, wind and rain, of barking and running, snoozing and zoomies.

I could get behind that particular idea of god.

One that tells us to seize this life and make of it what we will.