I’m back in London. We made it to the Olympic Men’s Gymnastics Qualifiers on Saturday night. It didn’t take us the three hours we feared to trek to the O2 at North Greenwich; only 25 minutes on a tube that wasn’t even as slammed as one at 8.45 am on a Monday. When we got …
Eating out – Sydney
The party is over. The syndrome has dropped and I haven’t even left for the airport yet. Ten days, seven munchkins seen, two minibreaks done (one north, one south), one wedding, plenty of time with family, friends and a whole lot of coffee and lunches squeezed in. While I try and balance in the cocktail …
You can never go home again. It’s a splintering thought. It’s one that could slide into a philosophical bog about the sense of home. Is it a suburb? A group of people? A collection of rooms and soft furnishings? Or is it as basic as a good coffee, toast and avocado served with an Australian …
It was always going to be a great night. Take The Hungry One and myself. Add two hilarious beings from our wedding party; one of my brideslaves, conveniently married to one of his groomsmen. Then put us in one of our collective favourite restaurants (albeit in a new location). Sopra has been the answer to …
These are the eggs that brought me back from the brink. One very dusty morning in Sydney I prised open an eye to find The Hungry One chortling at me. ‘You were very funny last night’. I have a history with hen’s nights. And not a great one. I get caught up in the excitement. …
