Regardless of what Santa might decide come Christmas day, judging by how utterly spoilt I’ve been for my birthday, I must have been very good this year… or I’m just surrounded by the best people. Probably the latter.
The best of the best being, of course, my incredible husband E. He always spoils me rotten (not just on special occasions, and I don’t mean in a material sense – he does a lot for me, all the time), and he knows me so well. He’d already gifted me a dreamy present from when we went to New York (I am subsequently obsessed with all things Henri Bendel), so I definitely did not expect him to take me out for what was the best lunch I’ve ever had in London. A bold statement, and one that means it surpassed the likes of Alain Ducasse (ok, only by a hair, but still) and l’Atelier de Joel Robuchon.