A delicious Portuguese red wine, shared with friends over steak and ale pie and wide ranging conversations.
New feather pillows.
Plans to visit Jenny for wedding cake planning and long catch ups (and, I'm hoping, a countryside walk with Pip)
Being taught how to chop wood correctly with an actual, proper axe.
Long walks through Richmond Park, complete with a peek through a telescope to spot St Paul's Cathedral, and childishly balancing along the edge of a wall, instead of walking on the path like a sensible adult would.
Tesco deliveries where unpacking the box feels a little like Christmas: "Oh, I forgot I ordered this!"
The autumn sunshine, and watching the sky change colour as I peek through the window while I shower.
Plans for a supremely girly day with one of my favourite women on the planet, complete with wedding dress shopping, make up lessons, and tea at Ladurée.
And a man who is incredibly important to me, who told me lately that I don’t seem 25. Despite my baby face, and tendency to dance to Taylor Swift, and the wide-eyed wonder with which I look at the unfamiliar, he told me that I am an Old Soul. Someone who has packed a huge amount into their twenty five years on the planet we call Home. He told me that I am intelligent, and wise, and beautiful, and I could have cried at the realisation that here is someone who looks at me and sees not the past or the damage, or who sees me as somebody’s someone, but who seems (bizarrely, incredibly, wonderfully) to see me as entirely and completely myself.