I met Kate at lunch today. It’s the third day in a row we’ve seen each other; coffee after work at Gay Costa on Tuesday, Moussaka and red wine at Charlie and Trin’s last night and a ciabatta at the Piccolo Deli just now. We’re catching up I guess, not that she’s been away physically. Her brother died. She fell in love. She became a successful DJ. She’s dealt with more sorrow than should be humanly possible and so the time Kate gifts me now - the third cup of coffee, the slow walk back to the station, the quick chat on the phone after work – are as precious and munificent as the first crisp days of spring.