The Welshman and I had a date night on the first day of Spring. It was the final event in the Festival of Kimba, spoilt brat that I am. We had tickets to see Wil Anderson, with enough time for a quick drink first and Chinese dinner afterwards. Boyo was in seventh heaven, knowing his lovely babysitter was coming to spend the evening with him.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love fancy pants date nights, when high heels and posh frocks are de rigueur for a celebrity chef hatted restaurant and a chic cocktail menu I adore them – the opportunity to frock up is one that doesn’t come around very often as parents of a small child.

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