OMGYOUGUYS. Who lights a firepit when it's 90 degrees at 7 p.m.? WE DO, APPARENTLY.
As part of my the birthday plan must go on attitude (I'm rarely stubborn, except for the cases in which it serves me), I was determined to light the fire and cook the Boerewors sausage that a dear South African friend in London got me for my birthday.
One thing I did not plan for, however, was the heat wave that has squatted upon us this week, as heavy and unmoving as a sumo wrestler.
But no chance I'm giving up the idea. Sitting around the firepit in the evening is one of our favourite things to do down here (in the autumn, like normals, but I refuse to acknowledge this) and it's my birthday (month). Who cares if I'm so sticky I'm attracting fruit flies. Who cares if my Eau de Bug Repellant has given me a fragrant, clammy sheen. THIS IS ROMANTIC.
Mmmmm, char away, little feast. Blister those peppers, roast that sausage, smoke out those mozzies.
Fortunately, by the time we sat down to eat, the temperature had cooled to the point Alan DARED TO SUGGEST WE EAT INDOORS. You can imagine how that idea went down. Too hot to sit around a fire, too cold to eat outdoors, THIS IS MY DREAM NIGHT, IT'S ALL GOING PERFECTLY.
We're off this weekend to Cognac to visit a friend, so that's exciting! We're actually neighbours in London, and his place down here is only a two- to three-hour drive away from our own -- which in France is basically next door -- so we're heading up after work today. Looking forward to seeing a new part of the country and spending the weekend eating, laughing, and of course, sipping Cognac.
I hope he's got a firepit.
There's never not a good time for a firepit!
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