Mish Mash and Maddy

Three months is not a short time to be away. Last night K threw a fantastic party. Nearly all my favourite people in London were there. Those who weren't made it in spirit. There was a lot of champagne, mini frittata and sausage rolls, olives and dips, honey mustard sausages, marinated chicken floated around on a platter, baked brie with cranberry sauce, and of course mince pies with brandy butter. Later we migrated to the local. Mish Mash should have a plaque at the front to commemorate the Friday nights K and I have spent there perfecting our pole dancing skills, flirting and being generally outrageous. When I think back I sometimes cringe, but mostly those priceless moments make me giggle.

Maddy has grown and is nothing like the little puppy who had a fight with my natural bristle brush the day I was packing. This morning as I started washing the 30 odd wine glasses scattered throughout K's place, Maddy jumped up paws on the kitchen counter wanting to play, still thinking she is a tiny ball of fluff. Later over scrambled eggs and pancakes with Vermont maple syrup K admitted having Maddy was the best decision she had made. And I have to agree.

Now after a delicious coffee I am curling up with the Sunday Times Style magazine. Oh, how I have missed the British press. Reading it online is just not the same.