Three months ago, my friend Khrystyne and I had brunch at Giraffe on London’s Southbank. She was a billion weeks pregnant and massively swollen, which I thought was incredibly cute but Khrystyne wasn’t really a fan.
Brunch was brilliant as usual as we sat in the warm(ish) London sunshine, drinking our hippy hippy shakes. When I got home after lunch – and you can totally picture this I’m sure – I launched for my netbook, wiggled my mouse and impatiently waited for the screen to wake up, so that I could tweet (yes, I really am that sad, whether you believe it or not is up to you).
Anyway, I tweeted something about a fabulous brunch and so glad my very pregnant friend didn’t pop on me. Giraffe promptly tweeted back and said when she did eventually pop, why don’t we bring bub down for another lovely brunch?
And so we did.