one of london's best kept secrets are the little back gardens some cafes have. sure, in summer, every cafe worth its weight in coffee beans advertises its terrace. but in spring, oh spring, the sandwich boards have yet to come out and these gardens are deliciously underpopulated. we stumbled upon maison blanc's a few weekends ago and felt like we were transported off busy fulham road and into a tranquil bamboo grove. we sat half-half (the mister in the sun, me in the shade), each in our element as we talked about our respective weeks.
when we were both lawyers*, we didn't talk about work very much (after a whole week at work, it's the last thing on our minds!) but now, talking about work is back on the table. it'd been a particularly harrowing week with some of the more sobering aspects of women's health (infertility, intra-uterine death and fetal abnormalities) and i was glad for the mister to bounce ethical dilemmas off. he's the kindest, most articulate soul i know and hearing his measured, utilitarian take on things always leaves me feeling comforted.
*he insists i was merely a pupil and never a lawyer. i insist i've been called to the bar and am therefore a qualified lawyer.
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