On a bandstand, the musicians played to a small gathering. What they were playing, I can’t say. Something biblical. Y’know, gentle yet mildly disorientating, like the songs they delivered as the Titanic sunk to its watery grave. The atmosphere was pleasant, though. Sunny, Sunday sun and chirping birds. Swaying green trees and a gentle breeze that took the smoke of my cigarette to the far reaches of town. There were many empty seats, although the absence of spectators was neither here nor there. Avoiding a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I breathed it all in with a smile on my face as I walked to hers. I’d been invited to celebrate her dog’s birthday. Joining her family, we ate food and watched the dog open his presents. Lucky thing had a sack load of them. Opening them one by one while we cheered enthusiastically, he sat on the floor surrounded by a plethora of toys with the biggest of grins on his face. Each time I ran my fingers through his fur, my bones melted that little bit more. Spending time with him made me think about the dogs I left behind in Luton. If I strain, I still hear them, but don’t see them. The warmth of their bodies tickles me throughout the night, yet their hearts are as distant as the moons of Pluto.