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Oliver on the tractor

Today has turned out to be quite special. Shortly after posting this morning's entry, charlie contacted me over facebook. I had been supposed to meet up with her and her siblings last night up in north London, but decided not to go in the end. She asked me to meet them for brunch in Shoreditch instead. I thought for a moment or two, and decided to go: Shoreditch didn't look too hard to get to on the map.

On my way there, something very special indeed happened. I got a message from Mark containing a single image and the words ''guess where we are''. I guessed in an instant: the picture was of my dad and Oliver. My little nephew was sat on a rusty old tractor; the very tractor at Amerton Farm I remember sitting on as a young child, and which had brought me endless joy. It was an incredible image which brought a tear to my eye. I was quite lost for words, but simply replied ''Oh my''.

My meeting with Charlotte, Poppy, William and friends went well. They're their usual hyperactive selves, whizzing up and down the country, teaching, partying and gigging. It was wonderful to see them, and we had a good long brunch. It's will's birthday too today, so cake was involved. Yet all the while I thought about that photo of Oliver on that tractor, of how it echoed my own childhood, how it brought back memories of my own childhood with the most loving parents anyone could ever hope for, who would now give that love to their grandchildren. And in that moment, sat there, among my friends, I suddenly felt utterly content. How could life get more perfect?

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