I do love a baby. Especially mine obviously, but they’re not babies anymore. And I’m not broody when I see one nowadays, just ridiculously tears-in-eyes happy.
Find Wine!
On Monday, the Husband and I celebrated 30 years since we first started going out. We were fifteen, the year was 1988.
I’ve spent much of this week trying to keep kids off screens despite the rain/without spending a small fortune doing so.
Last week, one lovely reader asked about gin. She’d walked into a bar, ordered a gin & tonic, was asked which gin and panicked.
Thank you for all my lovely birthday messages, especially the one that reminded me I’m now old enough to know what really matters.
I went to a brilliant party earlier this week (out! On a school night!), the book launch for my friend and fellow wine writer Victoria Moore’s new book The Wine Dine Dictionary.
So I won’t go on about it but I went to New York. For the weekend. With no kids. I know.
A couple of weeks into the new year and I still feel like staying under a blanket until February, preferably with a Terry’s Chocolate Orange and a glass of red within reach.
