Dear Reader, Mr Him advised me earlier this week that we were to go on a date night on Saturday. The appointed day arrived and I used my nails varnish from favourite channel, bathed in rose bath milk, (amongst our managerie we don't have an ass) and since Wednesday I had been plastering myself in a face mask in preparedness.
We went to a local, if you call a train trip local, Mexican restaurant.
Starters were frozen strawberry daiquiris with a side order of me wearing a sombrero. Handily the restaurant scatters 'help yourself to a sombreros' around just in case you get the urge to dress up. Mr Him got the urge that I should dress up.
Mr Him's main was chicken skewers and peppers (no carbs please note dear reader). Mine was a burrito, now with a side order of me wearing a moustache.
Dessert was a delicious popcorn cheesecake which I couldn't finish and I was given a doggy bag with extra chocolate sauce to take home. To my relief the only side order was a woo-woo and didn't involve dressing up, mainly because the waitress misunderstood him and brought me a cocktail. Thank goodness.
I did wear the blouse, and it did make an appearance on facebook. You are to be impressed by the fact that I have made such frequent use of this blouse over the last 6 weeks.
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