June in the UK is something close to magic — even if your version of magic involves fighting through overgrown nettles on a footpath while a bee investigates your ear. It’s that brief, glorious window when you step outside and the air actually smells of something good. And if you’ve ever walked past a lime tree in full bloom on a warm June evening, you’ll know exactly what I mean. That heavy, honeyed, almost dizzying sweetness drifting down from the canopy is one of those small, completely free pleasures that stops you mid-stride and makes you feel, briefly, like you’re living in a better novel than the one you’d been having a day in.