We spent the weekend sleeping, sweating (at the gym) and slouching round South Kensington and it was just perfect, completely and utterly perfect (insert smug face here). On Saturday we had walked to the Natural History Museum, one of my favourite spots in London (until the masses of poorly behaved children and their just as poorly behaved parents drove us too mad) we drank ciders in Kensington Gardens and then headed home for supper (I wore a dress with still-damp-from-the-shower hair and drank margaritas at our favourite Mexican haunt in Notting Hill pretending I was in a remote city near Hermosillo and not a restaurant that serves sweets and shots of blue tequila for pudding).
This morning we groaned awake hours after usual alarms were set, we conquered the gym, the kitchen and a box set of Friends before handsome other half whipped up a supper that left us belly rubbing full and ready to face the match. I'd love to take credit for any of these dishes but instead I flitted round the kitchen topping up our glasses and stealing tastes when he wasn't looking.
Fresh cucumber with a good slug of olive oil and sliced mozzarella.
Salty prosciutto with more mozzarella and homemade salsa and tzatziki.
Baked eggs with a sprinkle of paprika - truly eggs-ellent for dipping.
And the main event, freshly baked rosemary and tomato bread. Crusty on top but soft as a kitten inside.
I whipped it all onto the table, lit a candle and filled my plate - promising to do my share of the washing up and nabbing the best pieces of ham at the same time. Now you'll find us both on the sofa, half watching the game and half eying the rabbits who always seem to be plotting another breakout attempt. Happy, full and wearing a vintage Germany football shirt to show willing.
I hope you've all had just as lovely weekend, I'd love to hear all about them.