‘We’re here!’ I tell him, as I swing my leg over the back of the bike, taking off my helmet and shaking my hair free. The snowy air bites at my nose, but it’s a relief after hours on the back of the bike. I stretch up to the sky, easing the kinks back out of my spine. ‘Let’s stay here for years! Just you and me. We’ll leave the city behind, find work on the farm, and after a hard day ploughing fields or lambing, we’ll come back home to a nice casserole and a bottle of red.’