Punch (Belvedere, yuzu juice and basil) in little plastic cups ladled from an enormous basin; the sweetest-tempered little bulldog (Emma yclept) padding around underfoot; a beautiful, intimate little room and a group of friendly strangers to watch a Wim Wenders film with (ridiculously happy, my feet wouldn’t stop tracing out dance steps under my chair, mirroring movement on screen.) Again and again I return to this space.

*Although what is my liability for getting a dog drunk? I put my handbag under my chair, and my nearly-empty punch cup in it (not wanting to hold it during the film), and three quarters of the way through I realised Emma was nose-deep in my bag lapping up the melting ice. Heath says ‘attractive nuisance’ but I am not the owner of the premises!