Last weekend this Modern Wife was taken to The Pig in Brokenhurst for an ever so romaaaaantic birthday weekend. It was a complete (ish) surprise and was such a wonderfully relaxed weekend that I think I shall take a leaf out of Her Majesty The Queen’s book and have at least two birthdays a year.
Before another massive dinner on Saturday, I was wallowing in a searing hot bath, half filled with bubbles and half with my own middle-class smugness. While sipping on my third, probably organic, vodka and tonic I came to a conclusion about this blog. The conclusion was then backed up after dinner when I couldn’t lean forward or sit up straight without the genuine worry that the button on my jeans was going to pop off and knock someone out.
Turns out I’m not really any good at writing about things other than food. And, having written a whopping 5 posts in 2016 I may have got a little distracted from writing about restaurant. I’ll leave that to the professionals and the bloggers who do it much better than me. Samphire and Salisfy is generally my go to. Don’t worry – I’m sure there will be still plenty of badly lit, drunkenly half remembered dishes on the instagram page.
I’m going back to what (I think) I am good at. Writing about food. Food that I love and that I cook. But, this time there will be actual measurements on the recipes and portion control will be a thing. My trousers are way way too tight and my husbands shirts are also too tight. It’s mainly my fault as I do most of the cooking and I can’t be arsed to measure stuff, precision bores me.
Don’t fret, it won’t all be brown rice and chia seeds, but the scales and carb free dinners are coming out. As are my trainers, the post run selfies and the spectacular falling off the wagon dishes that will clog even the healthiest of arteries.
Brace yourselves chaps. We’re in for a bumpy ride.