I'm typing away in front of a nearly roaring fire (I maybe got a bit too keen with the firelighters), having polished off yet another Lindt chocolate bunny (that's nearly all of Peter Rabbit's family eaten since Easter).
Yesterday was spent in a very chilly corner of Gloucestershire at the Andoversford Point-to-Point with a C R-B picnic. Picnic is a bit of an understatement though as songs should be written about those brownies. (You haven't missed out though – have a wander into Jacks cafe in Cirencester to try for yourself).
One or two rounds of Bloody Marys which got me back onto an even keel, one good bet and a few rays of sunshine resulted in a nigh on perfect afternoon. Put to sartorial shame though, by one of our party rocking up in her Ash trainers, which if she wasn't a size 4 I would've resolutely wrestled her to the ground for. Also, if it had been earlier on in the month I would DEFINITELY have snuck off with one of the coloured furs from Wholesale Vintage Clothing – check them out here. Richard on the stand was dolled up like a Russian oligarch holidaying in St Moritz with a floor length fur and a much coveted burnt orange wrap. I think I should have perhaps fluttered my baby blues a little more to get some dinero off his original price...
Perfect Sunday down time which ALMOST made me forget about Coachella. Almost.
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