Wednesday, Wednesday. I always liked you.
This week I like Wednesday especially much because I got to come back from youth camp and spend a day with my boy. Camp is the sort of place where you forget the outside world exists (in a good way, mostly). Today I met my life again, and remembered I love it.
I’m not sure Henry was transported with the joy of seeing my sunburned face when I came to fetch him this morning. He sat on my knee and jabbered like he usually does. But we had breakfast and baths and naps as normal, I made soup for lunch, he showed me his new technique of biting the juice out of grape halves and spitting them out once the good bits were gone, which I duly admired, and it was all just lovely.
After lunch, we headed out for a mama-baby date. Technically we spend most days as a double act, but this time we left the house with cream cakes in mind. If I only had him for a Wednesday, I wanted to make Wednesday special. And there’s a new patisserie cafe in Reading I’ve been making promises to from a distance.
Check out THAT little window display for size.
The slobbery finger-marks on the glass may be mine. It’s all a bit hazy.
The menu cut right to the chase, and just had pictures of cake, rather than a list of items. I like a cafe with a healthy respect for a vanilla slice. We decided on a cream tea-with-no-tea – scones, clotted cream, jam and hot chocolate, non-Englishers – and a strawberry milkshake on the side for kicks. This boy has a good line in dry chuckles and milkshake-chugging, and is just the best company. I loved it.
Tomorrow I’ll get back in my wellies and run back out to camp (and more on that once it’s finished, because it’s been wonderful). Still a lot to do. But oh, my dear restful cream-cake Henricus Wednesday, you haven’t half treated us right.
Patisserie Valerie, Broad Street in Reading, but lots of other places, too.
Don’t get the scones toasted. Try the milkshake. Go mad with the clotted cream.