I hardly had time to sling my heels on, have a night out with friends who were in town for one night only, and catch up on some sleep, before I was on a plane again for work heading to Amsterdam.
The ever understanding CG waited patiently for me to repack before our one meal alone together for the week. That man is a damn good man.
We headed to Soif, a little place on Battersea Rise with an impressive wine list, for an unusual Sunday lunch.
The CG plumped for roast pork belly with some of the most decadent black pudding I've ever had the pleasure of melting on my tongue.
I had the lamb sweetbreads and a zesty asparagus, rocket and parmesan salad. Exactly what we both needed after a night of sweating it out on the dance floor (must be a sign of age that I opted for salad over carbs - sometimes I don't even recognise myself).
As I kissed the CG goodbye, my conscious (at least) was clear that I'd suitably fed and watered him for the day. I'm already plotting when I can get back there.