Oh hi outside!
I'm sure many people around the world like to wax lyrical about their flatmates, "I have the best flat mates ever" lalala et cetera, because it's so shit when you have bad flatmates that it's really exciting when your flatmates are awesome. The thing is, those people are lying. Not to you per se, but to themselves. Because I truly have the best flatmates.
Cut to Saturday morning: I'm sitting around drinking coffee, when my flatmate offers me a Bacon Butty. Just casually, as if such an offer isn't the best news I've heard all week. Then, while I'm eating said butty with Dave and Yael, they ask if I would like to come on a walk with them and Izzi, you know, outside. I give my laptop a parting glance and say yes.
We drive for a while (which is, honestly, almost my favourite part because I LOVE sitting in cars) and arrive at the American Independence Park, near Jerusalem, where we begin our stroll. Within ten minutes we accidentally stumble across a goat farm, where they make fresh cheese so good it 'almost' made me cry.
'Stumbling across cheese shops' in the middle of nowhere is the kind of thing I thought only occurred in Conde Nast travel magazine articles about upper-middle class writers tripping around rural France.
Women wearing headscarves like that while cutting us fresh cheese ?! What kind of fantasy land have I stumbled into.
We packed up the cheese and 'stumbled' on, more literally, along narrow paths through pretty thick scrub and trees.
Roughly an hour on, we reach this clearing and scoff the cheese, preparing for the hike up the hill and the drive home - where I fell into bed and had a well deserved (for once) sleep.