Juneathon day thirfrfvsxsvnteen. Comfort above finesse every time

Milking the anniversary thing a little more we booked into a hotel for the weekend leaving the animals and children (sometimes the boundaries do blur) at home.  Don’t worry they’re old enough to look after themselves.  So are the kids.

Danesfield House has a Michelin star and a spa so the general idea was eat the gross domestic product of Brazil, drink until your eyes bleed and then try to recouperate by means of a deep tissue massage and 50 lengths of the pool.  As breaks go it was a succcess and anyway it’s always good to get away from the routine.

From a Juneathon perspective however I’m conscious that the earlier part of the week was not what you’d call exercise-laden.  And as for the weekend, well, calories in far exceeded calories out.

My scales have been lying to me alot recently, summitting hitherto unseen heights.  In my imagination I see springs pinging from the sides and rivets popping as I step up for the weigh-in each day.  But we managed a swim on both the saturday and the sunday morning and although this kind of routine is not ideal for weight-loss, it’s bloody enjoyable.

Adam Simmonds’ Orangery restaurant is arguably one of the best in the country and it did not dissapoint.  Anybody who can raise the humble Trout to what can only be described as a gastronomic orgasm deserves a little more than a pat on the back.  The room has only eight tables and as dishes arrived it was like versions of a scene from When Sally Met Harry.

So. Next week I have to do some running.  New socks from my chum at Ashmei present some motivation as does fitting back into my jeans.


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