I cycled down Regents Canal just as the sun was setting and the shadows were getting long. Everyone was bathed in a golden light and slightly tipsy at their various drinking holes.

Proud barge boats with flowers and herbs potted on their roofs, and people holding cold beers and prodding distractedly at the BBQ whilst laughing. Children on scooters and dogs sniffing around on the towpath.

I reached my destination, our friends new acquisition 'Lotte' and sat on the deck whilst preparing Dinner, and the sounds carried across the water, flat owners sat on their balconies talking, someone practicing on their trumpet, music softly drifting over to us.

As it grew darker, candles were lit and the golden light bounced around our faces whilst we sat and talked shit. People walked past us and looked down enviously.

The cycle home much later that night was perilously dark - the narrow towpath going under bridges where barely any light crept in. A low mist hung over the water, edged by Victorian Ironwork and the shadows of huge old trees.

It's moments like that, when I don't want to leave! What could top it? And what could top knowing you belong there?