Cake break

My colleague Kat is off on maternity leave so we waddled for team afternoon tea. Masterchef has apparently caused us to call what would once have been a 'berry mousse', a 'foam'. Deconstructed dining. But you can never go wrong with scones slathered with cream and jam, banter about the visceral nature of childbirth and references to the Democratic Republic of Congo thrown into the conversation (Ali on the right was flying there in the early hours).

I must learn to temper my decibels and animation when retelling sagas to colleagues. The well heeled of Cambridge visiting the restaurant for egg sandwiches and profiteroles do not want to hear about my altercations with station ticket barrier men. It sours their aspirational lifestyle to have a loud semi-northerner (still clinging on to traces) bawling at the next table.

Had a wonderful evening with an old friend, eating risotto, wasabi peas and rhubarb, and banging on about all sorts.