I’d booked a surprise hotel stay for his birthday, so we deposited the prodigal grandson for a sleepover at his Nanny and Nonno’s.
And, my, what a naughty weekend we had. I’m not talking nookie in the afternoon. I’m talking Snickers in the mini bar. Allergy porn.
I mean scrambled egg for breakfast. Cashews. Recklessly, wildly, impetuously ordering a pudding without checking first if it contains nuts.
On arrival, my husband was straight into the club sandwich with egg; I audaciously dipped a chip into fresh mayo and scoffed a pistachio and hazelnut biscuit with coffee.
Back in the room we raided the mini bar and shared an illicit Snickers with a cup of tea. Later, before dinner, salted cashews. Then a drink downstairs: wasabi peanuts, almonds.
Breakfast was the real biggie, though. I haven’t had a taste of egg for fast approaching a year and a half – as a vegetarian that’s no mean feat, I can tell you. I’d been breastfeeding right up until last month, so with Sid seriously allergic to eggs they were vetoed from my diet. Plus we won’t use them at home, to be totally sure of no cross contamination. But now, gloriously, I could have scrambled egg for breakfast. And here it is:
I nearly ate it all. I did my best.
I think that lot should keep us going now for another year and a half. (For the record, Sid didn’t even seem to notice we’d gone).