I’m late.

I run across the road and try not to trip or drop the contents of my makeup-laden handbag on the road. Abi and Arianna (Ari) smile and wave to me from their table in the café, an offering called My Kingdom For A Horse. The paint scheme inside is divine: a tri-coloured horizontal stripe that skates its way around the café interior. Bright red, orange and yellow fly past us on whitewashed bricks. It’s got a daggy-new-again feel, like my puffer jacket in the 80s. Something you were once embarrassed by, because your mum made you wear it on cold casual days at school. Something you squeal over with delight when you see it again, after you’re old enough to make your own decisions and your mum doesn’t care what you wear anymore.