I don’t know about you, but my weekend was pretty ruddy fabulous. I sprung out of bed on Saturday morning and scurried off to the gym to whip my rear into shape with some leg, bum & tum action, and the old sweatathon that is Body Attack (fast and furious aerobics to you and me). A mad dash was made home to shower and head off to Surbiton, where I met a really lovely editor for lunch. With ciabattas consumed and an array of creative topics covered, I trotted off for an impeccably-timed and long overdue catch up with a favourite family member of mine; Cousin Sophie.
After a number of hours plonked in the same coffee shoppy slurping and chinwagging our way through mug after mug of frothy things, we saved the staff from throwing us out and made a swift exit, swinging by the pub where her boyfriend and footballing buddies were having a bevvy or ten, before darting off in our different directions.
Sunday was the most b-e-a-u-tiful day weather wise. The Little Mummy and I hauled on our wellies and headed out for a morning hoof around the countryside in the (very crisp) autumnal sunshine. Legs stretched and lungs freshly filled, I pootled to London for a birthday shindig. And thank goodness a calorie or two had be burned that morning, because this party (the dirt of which shall be dished later in the week) was an absolute feast I tell you. And boy do I LOVE a feast.