I may not think much of this list one day. I don’t care.
Deliberately not looking outside when you go to bed because you know it’s getting daylight but you’d rather it not be confirmed.
St. Paul’s Cathedral at night.
Rocking out to this, and all its remixes, before a race.
… and the last verse of its lyrics.
Knowing exactly where you’re going in the Underground.
Flirting with U.S. Immigration officials.
London when it’s super damn hot out.
. Three cans. Three hours.
The hard crush of cold sand against your back when you’ve lain on the beach for too long at night.
Getting over party politics.
Realising that you don’t know yourself at all. Quietly finding out what you never knew.
Last.fm. Never listen to the radio. Ever. Again.
The reflection in mirrored sunglasses.
Tower Bridge early in the morning
Labrador puppies. What is a Best Things list without goddamn Labrador puppies?
Having a good enough time in your sweats, in your kitchen, that you don’t give a damn if you’re an hour late to the party.
Conveying all the emotion and meaning necessary via a three-character text message.
Arriving at foreign airports.
All airports being foreign airports.
Sitting in rooms you’ve looked at on Skype for months.
Lightening hitting the sea so hard and so close that you can hear it.
Waking up in your parents’ house.
Hearing the club across the road blast two songs you love, in a row, at midnight.
Taking a moment to remember .
Driving into the parking lot here.
Doing a secret little dance of joy in your living room that the person you’re talking to on the phone doesn’t know about.
Series Three, Episode Two.