It is different here.
I quite like it.
It is a warm, still, Saturday afternoon in Troyeville.
My friend Pervaiz is cooking up a storm. He was born in a village in Pakistan – the spicy smells wafting down the passage are a nod to his roots.
His partner, Phillippa, has just bounced up to me and said, “You are so opinionated but I love you!” and kissed me on the cheek.