After a Sunday lunch of roast chicken and broccoli and cheese smashed potatoes (which Gregory and I decided were a most excellent way of getting children to eat their broccoli... READ: a most excellent way of getting Gregory to eat his broccoli), we scooted off to watch Honey Jr play le foot aka soccer.
Like any good WAG, Honey's Honey was already there when we arrived.
The Croupier decided to get some fresh air so she and her fiance came too... she needed a bit of help getting up on the ledge though.
It wasn't the biggest turn out which was a shame because Honey Jr was showing off his new neon green football boots. They're very fancy. And bright, they're very, very bright.
During halftime we popped over to the concession stand for hot chocolate but get this... the night before somebody had broken into the place and stole everything! What type of a person steals those big hot drink urns?! We had to settle on Heineken which wasn't the worst thing in the world, but un chocolate chaud would have gone so much better with the crisp air and bright doubled rainbow sky.
We decided that despite the loss, Honey Jr deserved a reward for playing his little honey heart out and that treat should be crêpes so we all headed back to The Croupier's house.
The Croupier mixed the batter and I manned the pan (I wish I had taken photos of the crêpe making but manning the pan didn't leave much room for photo snapping). We started with savory crepes.... beef in a Béchamel sauce that made them taste very Stroganoff like which was good since I happen to like beef stroganoff and I like crêpes... verdict... tasty.
From the savory we were ready for the sweet... Nutella... but when The Crouper grabbed her jar she realized that it was practically empty. Not having Nutella is a no-no but it being a Sunday night in not only France but The LPV means that there is no store to buy some more. We were in a full blown Nutella emergency. Not a problem, we sent Honey Jr around to The Croupier's grandmother's house to borrow some (much better than popping round for a cup of sugar if you ask me).
But when twenty minutes had passed and there was no sign of Honey Jr or the Nutella, we sent Gregory out to look for him. Another fifteen minutes passed and The Croupier phoned her grand-mère and demanded to know what happened to the Nutella Search Party. Apparently they were having coffee and pie and were quite content where they were, and Grandmere didn't seem to want to let them go. They must be allowed to return, we demanded, at least with the Nutella. A few minutes later they appeared, full of pie which was fine... more Nutella crêpes for the rest of us.
After an evening of delightful banter including an intense Raclette vs. Fondue debate (Raclette won 5-1 with Honey Jr being the lone Team Fondue holdout... but then he shouted, "Tartiflette" and mayhem ensued), and a root through The Croupier's old photo albums so I could see what a fourteen year old Gregory looked like #awkward, we called it a night and went home.
It was a very good one, and the last one where everything would be just as it was because only a couple of weeks later, The Croupier and her fiance welcomed her baby girl into the world, and Gregory met his goddaughter, and a few minutes later, she threw up all over him #truestory.
P.S. In case you missed it, I have a giveaway going on... Click here to enter!