My face is warm, gently cooled by the salty breeze…. I’m smiling. The Mediterranean water laps languidly against the edge of the terrace as I gaze across the azure….

Foot steps behind and then…. A plate of light and crisply golden squid, a wedge of lemon….a few crimson tomatoes flecked with shallot and tarragon glisten in their oily dressing. A frosted glass of ice cold beer….and the chinking of steel against porcelain.

The squid is warm and crisp, melts away in my mouth…

My Love beams, says nothing. Lifts the oyster to his lips and then salty, juicy, ozone.

A walk down the rocky track, the wafting aroma of wild thyme hangs in the heat haze, as we tread carefully over it. Pepito greets us, shakes his shaggy coat and we walk on together…

Blinking in the brilliant light, a stall selling freshly picked Ceps…. Too good to resist their perfumed flesh and pistachio gills.

Later, yellow ochre tagliatelle…. The mushrooms delicately sautéed, a splash of wine and a drip of cream, the perfume of purple garlic….. a scattering of the wild thyme, foraged….The light buzz of conversation, a few roasted figs drizzled with wild flower honey… a plan for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…