summery parks and baby pooh

I have bags under my eyes, but I suppose this is a sign of a good weekend.

Spent the latter half of Saturday spread out on a picnic blanket with Poen, the Brit and some other people, quaffing (and it's important to say this is in English accent) 'Pinot Grigio.'

Brits go bonkers for Pinot Grigio it seems. This light, wine, summery wine that won't make you pissed, just helluva mellow.
We sat there for hours soaking up the sun and talking shit.

This is what I've been wanting to do since arriving in London - doing the summer park hang-out thing, over wine and cold meats. And finally.

Yesterday we went to visit my aunt who lives in Wimbledon. Amble around the village there and catch up. Was lovely to see a familial face, even if the did mutter those terrifying words to the Brit, 'When we get back, I'm going to show you some pictures of when Peas was a baby.'

The album was opened, and there I was, henceforth emblazoned across the album pages with my bowl haircut and security blanket.

Aunt: Oh yes I remember that night babysitting you clearly. You had done a massive pooh, and we didn't know what to do with you. It was everywhere. So we held you upside down in the shower and blasted you down with water.

................

Brit laughs, I just say, 'I grew out of poohing when I was 3.'

New week at work. God may it just be better.