obsessive compulsive linking

I can’t really envision what the inside of our new flat might look like, yet. All I see is the balcony. Modest sized, just enough space for a couple of chairs, and a downsized kettle barbie. A recycled wine crate is inverted over the barbecue, transforming it into a side table. On its side, it doubles up as a guerrilla prep table.

And when the weather turns cool, we’ll be sitting outside as the sky darkens, swigging beer from the bottle as I get up to slap a couple of steaks on the grill, toasting buns over the glowing embers. It’s hard to be happier than when you’re manning a grill, flushed from the mixture of the crisp wintry breeze, alcohol flowing through your veins, heat from the coals, and laughing till your cheeks ache.