Getting out of London to go home and sleep in the bedroom you grew up in.
Turning your phone off, leaving the laptop behind.
Lying in real grass staring at the at the sky through half closed, sun dopy eyes.
Putting the world to rights with people you don't mind seeing you in a bikini.
Watching the light creep across the sundial.
A pop of a cork, clink of glasses, the sound of foamy bubbles spilling over.
All things that made this weekend, bliss.