We’re off to a festival this weekend. And it’s my favourite kind of festival because it’s local, meaning I get to soak up the atmosphere and still collapse into my own bed at the end of it.
Find Wine!
After spending last week in London tasting around 100 wines a day (I was judging at the International Wine Challenge, not just really thirsty), I’m back and trying to get on top of things.
So Camp Bestival at the weekend was wet but happily the wine was dry. And delicious. And plentiful. On Saturday night around 50 of us crammed into a tent for the annual Secret Mummies Wine Club and, as always, The Scummy Mummies made us laugh a lot.
You already know about my granola habit. Tonight – I blame Bake Off – I decided to move on to bread.
This is me, at the Knackered Mother’s Wine Club tasting at Camp Bestival last Saturday. We had a brilliant crowd, including a gorgeous lady who’d got married that day at Camp Bestival’s inflatable church (not making this up) and another on her hen night.
Laughter is the best medicine, or so they say. Clearly they forgot wine, carbs and Codeine but I know what they were getting at.
