We're strolling across the tip when I spot something. 'Look, a dead creature,' I say to Husband.
'Is it?' he says doubtfully.
'Yes, a mouse I think.' I look more closely. 'Or possibly a bird.'
I peer again. 'Or it might be a bit of tree. Or dog poo.'
Back in the real world the wild roses have started to bloom on the tip. I've said this before but I will say it again, 'I wish you could smell them.' Is there anything as sweet as the scent of a wild rose?