Not every good day announces itself with fireworks. Some just begin with a quiet decision — to step outside, wear your favorite top, and chase nothing but light.

Yesterday was a Saturday, ordinary on the outside but soft and golden on the inside. The kind of day that feels like a deep breath after a long week, where nothing extravagant happens… and yet, everything feels just right.

We started with a walk along Birmingham’s canal, where the old brick bridge arched like a storybook page held open. The water was still — reflecting not just buildings and skies, but a sense of peace I hadn’t realized I was craving. I stood there for a while, just being. Just breathing. And somehow that was enough.

Then came Piccolino — our lunch spot and little escape. There’s something romantic about al fresco dining under the English sun. You sit, sip slowly, and let your senses catch up to the moment. I ordered a citrus mango drink — bright, cold, glowing like a bottled summer. I held it with both hands, not just for the taste but for the comfort.

The food? A love language. Crisp golden calamari that whispered of the sea. Fresh pasta tangled with seafood and tomatoes, like a memory of home and travel all at once. A rich tomato-based prawn dish, heads on and unapologetically flavorful — the kind of plate that doesn’t ask for approval. It just is.

And oh, the desserts. A creamy pistachio panna cotta with raspberries and crushed nuts — like art on a plate. And an affogato, simple but bold. Vanilla gelato bathed in espresso, with a cookie resting on top like a wink from the chef. I took a spoonful and closed my eyes — because isn’t that how some moments deserve to be savored?

We wandered after that, hands light and hearts full. I found a greeting card that made me smile:
“I was not made to be subtle.”
I laughed because it felt like it knew me. The version of me that wears yellow scarves, that speaks softly but feels deeply, that lives between wild dreams and small joys.

Later, we headed to Sea Life (different blog post)— a different kind of quiet. A world of fish and glass tunnels and bright-eyed wonder. But honestly, the magic had already happened. It happened over pasta, under sunshine, beside someone I love.

I didn’t need anything more than what that Saturday gave me: stillness, flavor, laughter, and the gift of being present.

Sometimes it’s calamari, a mango drink, and leaning on someone’s arm by the water.
And that is more than enough.