The morning started when Max rolled over and pinched Heather on the upper arm, nothing nasty, but one of those big, juicy chunks of pinch that convey ‘Geez, babe, can you believe, we are finally here, living the dream!’ After a roll in the crisp, white linen and a fit of giggles and whispers, they snuck naked-as across to the kitchen to kit up the espresso machine, they couldn’t even mosey on down to the patisserie without a coffee-starter.
Grabbing a random towel, Max pattered up the galley steps to survey his kingdom. The sun rose low in the sky behind the row of plane tree saplings, just tipping over the palate to autumnal. The water of the canal had settled during the night, showing the mill house frozen in its own beauty.
Showers and brekkie being dun’n’dusted, they untangled the bikes from the barge and were on their way.