Saturday and Sunday

Originally published on – July 2010

So, it is Sunday night and those butterflies about the impending work week are starting to flutter.

My weekend has been so, so good. Picnic with my hubby at our new favourite spot in the forest.

Drinking until the wee hours with my Brother and his Girlfriend in our communal garden. Not realising we had sunk 2 bottles of wine and 3 bottles of vodka. Alcohol units don’t mean anything when you’re talking away and eating pitta and hummus.

Sunday was even better. Late breakfast and slowly getting ready for a day of sunning ourselves in the garden, embracing summer for the few days we have it. It was truly showing off my Mediterranean roots with my mad tanning skillz.

And now? Now, we must rest for tomorrow it is back to work. Back to earning some money so that we can hopefully enjoy the weekend again.

But before that, I can write as much as I want and twitter till I am blue in the face, all while Hubs is watching the World Cup final. Its win-win.

I will miss the World Cup for letting me have 2 hours of unadulterated ‘Fran time’. Oh and I will miss the thighs of the footballers.


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