A chap I deliver to had just come back from Scotland with his Mrs, Doreen. They have a huge motor home so they go quite regularly.
Yesterday I asked him if they'd had a good time.
'Brilliant, Gavin, we didn't want to come home,' he said, peering over his gate. 'A black swan took bread out of Doreen's fingers, then sat next to her on the grass. Then, just as we were packing up to come home, a young deer ran out into the open, stopped, looked at us, then shot back where it came from.'
He looked very happy and full of life. Bare in mind he's in his 70s.
'That's what life's about, isn't it,' I said, 'the simple things.'
'It really is, Gavin, it really is.'
I'm typing this whilst eating some mangetouts and sugar snap peas.
I didn't pick them.
I'm grateful for every bite.