Monday was a glorious day.
As I practiced yoga on my Balinese balcony, the sun drizzled up over the ocean, bringing with it a honey glow that buzzed right across the paddy fields, and swallowed up every last drop of my Cornish winter.
The geckos chattered, strong coffee brewed and a silky black omen hung out in my hammock with a curious eye.
A wise old tomcat, with a question mark of a tail and confident swagger, he cast a spell on me that day.
Throw together a feline guardian angel, still mind, warm ocean, papaya that halts the senses and masseur called Sunny, and there you have 24 hours of pure honeycomb.
Did I mention it was a Monday?