Elderflower Panna Cotta

The BSG, Dad and I enjoyed The Rolling Stones’ Glastonbury set yesterday evening from the comfort of the sofa: with a great view, warm, dry and utterly relaxed in the knowledge that a trip to the facilities wouldn’t require a 45 minute commitment. I may have mentioned before that the BSG is allergic to camping, so this may be the closest we ever get (though I am working on the tipi boutique hotel idea. If a bunch of 69-year olds can headline a festival then I figure I’ve got some time)…

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Bird of Smithfield

By its name it could be an age-old London song, an ancient boozer or a character in a lost Dickens novel; Bird of Smithfield sounds like it’s been around for a while. Conversely it hasn’t, and by some fluke the BSG and I have paid it a visit during its first few weeks. We’ve even beaten the website – we feel a little bit cool. Usually, we’re a couple of years down the waiting list.

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