I would like to be back in Budapest. When we were there we stopped at some little bar that was open all night, called Casablanca’s I think. It was like midnight, but still pretty warm, possibly just starting to spit with rain a little. We ordered beer and sat outside watching a couple of the bartenders throwing about an American football in the street. And they brought us out blankets in case it got cold. And four of us just sat having decided to leave the rest of them to head back to the hostel, drinking and cackling and most likely disturbing the locals. It was wonderful.

Or I’d like to have a garden or something to sit in. In Stirling we used to have barbecues in the back garden, and one turned the little disposable barbecue into a make-shift campfire and kept it going into the early hours, drinking hideous concoctions of what we had left in the drinks cabinet. 

Generally I’d like to be wiling away a summers evening somewhere. When the sun’s warm until late in the day, and you’ve got a bit of a beer jacket on you anyway. And then maybe sitting around in mismatched blankets when it does start to chill a little. Drinking and smoking and talking about nothing in particular. Well, not smoking any more. I never really enjoyed it enough to warrant smoking for as long as I did. It became a bit of a go to when I got stressed or miserable really. But there was something quite peaceful about stealing away to have a quick cigarette. Especially in the summer. I always felt like I could think better then. 

I like walking on grass in bare feet. And pulling it out in big clumps and sprinkling it on people. That’s a true sign of summer I think we can all agree on. Spreading blankets and jackets out on the grass and everyone lying splayed out all over. Looking at the sky and chatting and going off on tangents. And then it gets to the point in the night when the light is fading and fuzzy-alcohol brain and sleepiness starts to make everything hilarious. And the last two of you who have stayed up til the birds start to wake up again try and sneak into the house without waking the rest of the place up, exaggerating every ‘tiptoe’ and crashing into everything you tried to avoid, not so quietly in whispered, hysterical laughter. 

I like evenings like that.