Almond glaze's warm disposition, reminds me of hazy summers I spent as a child in England. The days felt endless, the sun went down close to ten --so in a way I suppose they were. There's a beautiful warmth to an English summer, the way the comforting way the light feels on your skin and watching as pollen gently flies through the air is magical. I was six living in Kent, a county south of London, and I had a large overgrown garden with wild bunnies, adjacent to a golf course. My best friend was named Sara. She was very shy, and I was a chatter-box, so we made for a balanced couple. After school we would shed our uniforms in a pile on the floor and dive into her fancy-dress box. During summer we would go strawberry picking at a nearby farm and eat our loot covered in cream. Raspberries, on the other hand, were eaten whole from each finger. And when the nights were warm enough we slept in a make-shift tent in her garden, and made 'perfume' in tiny bottles from rose petals and water. Such fond memories of these endless summer days that spilled into night.