Children, Friends & Family, Greek God(zilla), Life
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Weekend Round-Up

Friday night is possibly my most favourite time of the week.

The Greek God(zilla) leaves work early and is generally in high spirits when he returns home, usually after having stopped off for a quick pint on his way back.

The bedtime routine is completed with an extra spring in our steps, as we look ahead to the two work-free days to come.  Downstairs, the Greek God(zilla) prepares the steaks, while I pour the wine.  Wine on any other night just does not taste anywhere near as good as Friday Night Wine.

At the end of a long week, it is akin to an old friend popping round to give you a big hug, letting you put your feet up on the sofa and then laughing at all of your bad jokes.  Red wine is your friend.  But, only on a Friday night.  Monday-Wednesday, she can be a moody bitch.

After devouring the steaks, we might watch a bit of telly and chat about our plans for the weekend, before retiring early to watch Netflix in bed.  Middle-aged HEAVEN.

Last week, the Greek God(zilla) suggested a break from our Steak Night™ tradition in favour of shoe shopping, haircuts and fish & chips OUT.  As in leave the actual house to eat on a Friday night.  I agreed on the proviso that we would be back in time for Eastenders.  Besides, I was still feeling a bit fragile from the previous night’s antics with my good buddy, red wine, whose presence that day felt less like a warm hug and more like a punch in the stomach.

First stop was new shoes.  Not for me though, sadly.  We needed a pair fit for a 4-year old to run through puddles, while still maintaining a certain element of style for school and various social occasions i.e. not Spiderman wellies.

The Greek God(zilla) was also letting me gatecrash one of his own most cherished traditions – father/son haircuts at The Groom Room in Dulwich Village.

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They have been coming here to have their hair cut together for a couple of years now; a tradition that I hope will continue for many more years to come.

Our last stop before home was to The Seacow for fish & chips, where we bumped into the HPMcQs.  Great minds think alike and all that.  It’s quite difficult to find gluten-free fish & chips, but this place has lots of grilled options and the chips are cooked in a separate oil, so are safe for me to eat too.  I washed down my grilled sea bass fillets with a glass of Friday Night Wine, before heading home for an early night.

It was lovely to wake up on Saturday morning with a clear head.  Especially as I was out on the town later that night with my little brother and our gorgeous friend from Sydney, who was in town for a conference.  I had ordered a new pair of jeans for the occasion, which were delivered that morning.  Unfortunately, I had ordered from the maternity range in error.  More alarming, is that I tried them on anyway and THEY FITTED ME.

So, I wore them.  As we would be eating out that evening, I thought I could probably do with a little bit of extra stretch.  Those adjustable waistband thingys could prove very handy after a large meal.

We met for cocktails at Dean Street Townhouse, where I polished off a couple of these beauties.

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Then we went for dinner at Bob Bob Ricard, where I pressed this button a few times…

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Plus knocked back a -18 degree vodka shot out of a crystal chalice.  This is one of the most lavish restaurants I have ever had the pleasure to dine in.  The vibe is buzzy, the staff are welcoming, and the food is delicious.  We rolled out of there a couple of hours later; laughing all the way to another bar in Soho, the name of which I cannot recall.  We literally had one more drink for the road and then it was time for me to call it a night.

The Greek God(zilla) allowed me a sleep-in the following morning, which was just as well as I could barely lift my head from the pillow without feeling incredibly nauseous.  My brother had spent the night in our spare bedroom and was looking remarkably fresh-faced and alive.  He is 22.  Need I say more.

Our son loved having his Uncle over to stay.  He was the only one allowed to help him get dressed, brush his teeth, and race cars up and down the hallway with him.

Leaving me to spend the morning with my head under the duvet.

I had to eventually drag myself out of bed to attend my Dad’s birthday lunch.  Fortunately, I had knocked up a cake for him the day before, so i did not feel completely useless when we arrived and I headed straight for the sofa.

Never.Going.Out.Again.

Until the next time someone invites me, obviously.

*****

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