He used to call me Sunshine. Good morning, Sunshine. Sleep well, Sunshine. I miss you, Sunshine. Sunshine this, Sunshine that. And I used to ask him,
"Is it because London is so gloomy and lacks of sunshine?"
And when we argued, it's Sun Scorch. So our days were either bright when we were all civilised and loved up or brighter (that we burned) when we were beastly.