drink up, my dear

Today we went for a proper 'Abi and Bryan' lunch. This involved burgers and beer followed by a few drinks. For some reason (possibly because my life revolves around milk right now) I had 2 White Russians. Oh sweet lord they were amazing.

After spending quite a bit of time reciting The Big Labowski quotes to each other (my favourite being "they call me The Dude, His Royal Dudeness, El Duderino") we scoffed our amber nectar and toddled along the road chatting about utter nonsense.

And then it was bathtime and bedtime for Arlo and then it was wine time for me & Bry and I cocked about on Facebook (which I HATE by the way) for a bit cos some of my friends put up new photos and Oh! Look! Would you believe it? It's time for bed.

Phew.

Oh - this picture is Bry's RIDICULOUS drinks. We went to The Roseleaf which is owned by our pals, and our Johnny insisted Bry had a 2 pinter in honour of the fact he spawned a child. I'd be indignant, really I would - but I think a 2 pinter of White Russian would probably kill me. Or send me mad at any rate.

Okay... more mad.