There was 9 hours of blissful sleep, uninterrupted. A quiet morning alone in bed with babies and crumpets, waiting for the sun to rise. A pile of presents and duvets and chubby, milky arms and legs. Brunch with friends who just love dem bubs. Crisp winter air with knitted hats, chilly fingers, chickens and allotments. Babysitting grandparents with a suitcase full of French wine. Mint juleps under a chandelier of pressed glass and pearls. Dinner alone by candlelight.
A walk home in the cold cold dark of a January night with the lights of traffic and restaurants and newsagents and the chatter from briefly opened doors of bars twinkling all around us. A walk home to two babies, warm and soft with eyes wide and smiles gummy, heads downy and necks milky.