It’s a snowy Sunday afternoon. I write this sitting by the fireplace, smugly ensconced in cream cashmere, picking my way through a box of boozy chocolates. Opps, I’ve just dropped a half eaten cherry liqueur down my front, karma is a bitch. Before I get too drunk to type I better tell you about this weekend.
Saturday morning Mummy McCoy, Gabi’s babe-a-licious mum, took us for lunch in Soho.
I may be a Londoner, but I couldn’t resist whipping out the family tartan for the occasion. Although my clan’s honour was nearly compromised as the garment was caught in a breeze from a passing taxi making a spectacular getaway.
Lunch was at Foxcroft and Ginger in Soho. It does the best soya mocha in the capital, according to me. A rich heady drink served in chintzy porcelain and an irresistible rush of endorphins.
Then there are the super hunky sandwiches and the brownies; gloopy super compact wedges of filth. Just the way we like it.
The McCoy Ladies
Gabi Rocking her Pilgrim Hat
As we left Foxcroft it was beginning to snow. Luckily our husky and sleigh only had to pull us to B-Soho on Poland Street where our friend for a blogger’s lunch. Of course this was really an excuse to do what bloggers do best; eat and instagram pictures of our food.
Personally, I’ve always prefered Luigi
We exchanged exciting tales of our weekend, moaned about significant (and insignificant) others and took more photos than Narcicus.