Retrospective blogging – because I’ve been blog-less, if you will. And so to The Bonneville in Hackney. This had been on my list for ages and we finally picked it out for a Valentine’s meal. Turned out to be the perfect setting – a rose strewn on the table, dishcloth napkins, mis-matched vintage crockery, an imported stained-glass ceiling and a cobbled trip down a faux-Parisian alley (and that’s not to mention the T-bone steak for two). All sitting in confusingly stark contrast to the street outside. Felt like I’d landed in a (French) episode of Goodnight, Sweetheart. What a find.
Tag Archives: French
hope you have a lot of nice things to wear
Anyone else wish they were in polka-dots with the sand beneath their feet? At the moment I’m drinking coffee, trying to speak in French and pondering a massive overhaul of my record collection. All lovely, but I do rather wish I was in polka-dots, sand beneath my feet, not a care in the world…