Earlier this week I celebrated a birthday with a round of French 75s, a hot bath and an eye mask. I know, hardly rock &
Find Wine!
I’m not sure what day it is, the fridge is practically empty (despite having filled it with panic-bought food a few days ago) and the washing is out of control.
Last week, one lovely reader asked about gin. She’d walked into a bar, ordered a gin & tonic, was asked which gin and panicked.
Honestly, I never used to get the whole self-care thing. In my twenties, I was too busy. In my thirties, too tired.
So all my presents are bought, wrapped and ready to go. Cards have been written. Homemade mince pies are stashed in the freezer.
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.
So here we are, the kids still on holiday (mine go back next Tuesday. NEXT TUESDAY) and I’m still on crutches.
Currently, my kitchen table looks like some kind of crazy lady tiki bar. Turns out writing a book about homemade cocktails is a lot of fun.
