I don’t think a spring goes by without me wishing I was in Brighton. Strangely, seeing as I’m in charge of carving out my own self-sufficient destiny – the one thing I dreamed about most while living in the fabled Brighton and Hove – this spring is no exception.
This could have something to do with it;
But there’s more. I was up early the other day (like when am I not nowadays?!), fed the animals and laid the boys breakfast out but found the milk jug empty when I went to the fridge. A quick check of the time revealed I had about twenty minutes before they surfaced. I must have still been half asleep myself though as I took a step towards the door thinking I could run out and grab some from the shop, and maybe pick up some croissants and a financier or two for Laura from the Real Patisserie at the bottom of the road…
The trouble is when we were in Brighton we had to work all hours for soul sucking corporations just to pay the mortgage.
Does anyone fancy opening a Real Patisserie in our other house?!