We’re back in big jumper season again and honestly, I’m thrilled. Much as I love the feel of sun on skin give me a polo neck, roaring fire and a glass of red any day.
Okay, not exactly a watermelon. It was a jackfruit. No, me neither but apparently they’re the ‘meat’ of the vegetable world and you can make curries and stews out of them and it feels a bit like eating pulled pork.
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.
I had lunch with Rob Lowe last week. OK, ‘had lunch with’ might be pushing it. I was in a restaurant and he was on the next door table.
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.
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.