The Itchy Year

Seven years ago a boy woke up on a bank holiday Monday, still fully dressed and with a hangover lurking somewhere, unsure of where he was or how exactly he had got there. However, the north London flat he found himself in had freshly brewed coffee so he stuck around and got to know the girl whose flat it was and who he had gallantly escorted home in the early hours.

Seven years later and he’s still drinking my coffee …

Thanks for seven lovely years ... the last time we celebrate this anniversary!