Ham 'n' Eggs

With no sport on this weekend for the first time in what feels like an age, we were all allowed a bit of a lie in. Sadly, Conor was up and about through the night with his usual throwing up/burning up/feeling miserable approach to illness. I elected to go back to my own bed each time - in the hope that I could distance myself a little from the germs and escape his lergy - so did get a little sleep. He spent the morning wrapped up on the sofa feeling very very sorry for himself. Alternating between sipping water and throwing up into a bowl. Even sweeties were turned down.

Katherine and I headed out to the Christmas market and to get some shopping done, but were soon back to look after the little hot boy. I generally take an approach of letting the fever do its work, but allowing some paracetamol to take the edge of the misery for the patient, and today that approach seemed to work well and he was perked up enough by the evening to manage cookies.

Meanwhile, I got on with cleaning the house and making up beds for our guests, while Mr B grouted the new draining board (no point me trying to explain - I'll blip it once it's installed and all will be clear) which seemed to take the whole afternoon.

Then our friends arrived, the kids settled in to watch the telly and we tucked into some rather lovely champagne and waited for the babysitter to arrive. With Lydie installed and in charge, we made our escape - my first night out in Lavaur without the kids and a very welcome event indeed. Mr K's health was toasted in our kitchen, a bar and finally in the restaurant. Choosing a restaurant when you only go out once a year is a stressful responsibility. But happily my research paid off and we had a fantastic meal. Tiny restaurant with a short menu (much easier to choose from 4 options than 40!) Here is Mrs K's starter - chorizo and quail eggs - and the only photo I took all day. My starter was rouget on toast (they had a fancier name for it) followed up with cod in lemon sauce and melting chocolate pud. All absolutely delicious. The cocktail menu featured Cosmopolitans, so any thought of my staying sober and driving home was soon forgotten...

At home the babysitter was released from her evening of crafting with the girls (the boys having put themselves to bed) and we were happy to hear that Conor had managed some food and hadn't thrown up at all - normally this sort of thing affects him for a week or so; perhaps he's growing out of that? And so we all headed off for an early night.

Hahaha.

No, we spread all the cheese and chocolate in the house on the table, opened a couple of bottles of wine and one of whisky (with water added to the glass from the Vide Grenier pissing boy the kids were kind enough to buy Mr K for his birthday) and so an evening of refined conversation began. We definitely didn't just slag each other off for (random selection of topics) wearing shorts in December, being English, or calling people English (erroneously).

Mrs K had the sense to stagger off to bed at 3ish. Mr K wasn't far behind. Mr B and I foolishly carried on the loony chat until something beginning with 5.

We are all very bad for each other.

In other words, another fine night.