For Mother's Day Mum and Dad made the trip out West to see the Bristol collective. I made reservations at a Lebanese place that none of us had tried before, so it only made sense to try all the mezze heavy hitters like falafel and baba ganoush. Dad helped himself to the mixed grill, narrowly dodging the meat sweats while the table chatted away. We saw the restaurant advertising a free desert for mothers on mother's day - what none of us for saw was Rebecca and Rachel getting a free pud as well. As Rebecca lifted a spoonful of free panna cotta up to her grinning lips I had never felt so jealous in all my life.
Once the family dispersed back home Rebecca and I did one of our quietly favourite things: channel surfing through the Sunday Night telly. It's dire, but in a way that's easy to make fun of, our commentary making each other laugh before unironically getting more invested in Crufts than we'd expected. Monday tomorrow, and what could mark the last full week off I have before returning to work (fingers crossed). Time to make it count.
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