Discussing things of import

I had a half day holiday yesterday. To cover my mum’s brief trip to Wales on one of the days she spends the afternoon looking after M’laddo after pre school. He wasn’t too fussed, the idea of hanging out with me seemed a good substitute to too many sweeties and other such contraband that his Nana gives him.

We started the afternoon well, with some lunch at a fab local restaurant, Kashu. They do great pizza and pasta at lunchtime for bargain prices. I think the thing that M’laddo liked best, aside from being taken seriously by the owner who has a Ben 10 mad 5 year old, was the seating, which was sort of booth based. When we left he was grinning from ear to ear and so evidently pleased, I even managed to remove his sweater from him, something the 20 degree heat had failed to do.

I’d plotted a leisurely walk home that I reckon is about 3 miles to walk off the pizza, with the promise of an ice lolly (aka lollopop  in 3 year old speak). It was progressing well and the conversation naturally turned to an in depth discussion of lollipops. I freely admit I had never felt the subject merited a detailed 25 minute discussion that encompassed both different types of lollipops and the ideal way to eat them but rest assured, by the time we reached the Inn on the Park, I was an expert.