Your First Sweet Kiss, Thrilled Me So...

When you sit in a restaurant in France with a three year old and a Six year old, and are served spaghetti into which your waitress cracks a raw egg, there is only so much composure you can maintain.

We all giggled helplessly and watched around trying to figure out the correct etiquette in dealing with the egg. The realisation that you stir it in to the pasta came after observing several locals eating, and it was lovely, but the kids were horrified.

The toilets were equally entertaining. No visit to any restaurant was complete without a complete and utter examination of the toilets. Thankfully this toilet was a modern, well fitted wash room, with no evidence of the concrete holes we had experienced elsewhere.

What did throw my little three year old toilet examiner was the fact that it was a mixed sex toilet. Lots of cubicles, on one side a clean trough on the other... men and women standing queuing for one side or the other.

After the excitement of the toilets and the raw egg, the dessert. There could be only one when in France, and that would be the lovely creme brulee. Si and I sat and drooled as the waiter stood to one side and blasted them with his blow torch. It was angel food. Delicate and lovely, with a crispy sugar caramel lid, and cool and smooth underneath. Oh it was the best ever.

So today, when I was sitting at work, and Si was at home I text him and said "if you aren't doing anything, you could make me some Creme Brulee, not really serious, but just winding him up.... But I come home, and there on the side, the most heavenly home made creme brulee.

I have no reason not to love this man xxx