Notes from the Weekend

ON SUNDAY morning, I ate the worst breakfast of my life. We’d left the house just after 8:30 in the morning for a burdensome road trip that would take us five hours south for business. It was an unpleasant obligation, a necessary evil, even, but the drive up was fun, just the two of us. That is, until we pulled over at a Services along the way, somewhere near Sheffield, and stopped for what would be the worst breakfast ever. The place promised a good cooked breakfast and delivered things shrivelled within an inch of their lives and other bits (an egg? a tomato?) too catastrophic to mention. Neither one of us finished and we resolved to never speak of it again. (P took it further and vowed to never stop at any Services again.)

After our business meeting was completed (with still unfinished business to tend to), we stopped in to see another associate of ours for a quick visit, and then set off on the long drive home. We decided to stop in at a charming pub along the way, a couple of hours from our English countryside cottage, and ended up ordering a Sunday roast, as they were still serving. It delicious and fancy and (happily) more than made up for breakfast.

Even better still, was curling up on the sofa, drinks by the fire after a very long day.

This week’s links include an extremely pink apartment in Milan and bamboo porcelain dinner plates for February soirées; a pink mohair jumper for winter days, a new print at The Shop, and much, much more.

xo,

P.S. past weekend links