Hoegaarden (with slices of lemon)
Lazing in a beer garden surrounded by petanque court and a French dog.
Can this really be Manchester?
Had an amusing laid back afternoon down the pub with Kristina, mad Swede that she is. Even though she called me hormonal??! Anyhow, we celebrated in style and remembered to eat something before laying waste to The Woodstock’s supply of Wheat Beer this time. I had a Cajun Chicken burger and she now owes me many drinkies.
And that dog – I swear the owners were talking to it in French, and then talking in English amongst themselves, most odd.
Don’t know what to do with myself now though. It’s early Saturday evening and I have nowt to do, I should be doing something exciting but instead I suspect I shall just mosey.
Kristina beat me to the last Guardian so I don’t even have that to peruse.