It’s been a pink kind of week.
The week began, as you know, with Son #3’s seventh birthday.
Our little chef received two children’s cookbooks, some shiny new utensils and a wee apron.
On Wednesday night after swimming lessons, he came home, ripped off his bathers and popped on his new purple apron and proceeded to make the most fabulous chocolate cake from this book, with not much assistance at all.
(When I say he ripped off his bathers and threw on an apron, I mean it literally. He didn’t put clothes or pyjamas on first. And yes, I couldn't resist taking several photographs, each one titled The Naked Chef 1, 2, etc. I nearly posted them here but did manage to resist …)
My cousin sent us a housewarming postcard of windows in Yemen.
Because she has excellent taste like that.
It‘s stuck up on our fridge with the Shakespearian insults fridge magnet set.
Also on the fridge.
A visit to our new local library.
Reminder note stuck up with our old local library magnet.
A nook in the dining room with some of my favourite things.
The clock stopped working the day we moved.
Some sort of protest?
The postman brought an exquisitely wrapped parcel.
A parcel which, due to misunderstandings of handwriting and not all neighbours knowing of our existence yet, has travelled across the seas three times now.
(And still had no. 55 written on it, instead of 56. But it arrived!)
In it was an apron.
In my favourite colours … plums, browns and pinks.
Thank you, dearest one. You do spoil me.