The first barbecue of the year.
What a momentous occasion.
According to my life, it signifies the summer has officially arrived. For it is finally considered warm enough to dine in the garden.
I love lunching in outdoor space, as long as those pesky flies and naughty wasps leave me alone. I now come aided with (hearts and ladybirds) food covers, so that's one less world wide problem to worry about.
Arh the smell of burgers burning and the sting of smoke in the eyes, you can't beat it. With a cold beer or glass of wine to hand.
If you're lucky, there won't be a single drop of rain. No dashing indoors, or erecting umbrellas, or soggy paper plates. The absence of these are the best barbecues.
If you're really lucky, the weather forecast will predict your local area to remain dry with sunny periods. And it will be correct!
Side salads have never tasted so good, the abundant choice of sauces will blow your mind.
Trifle in a polka dot bowl and strawberries and cream in teacups, resting on a gingham tablecloth.
But don't forget your factor fifteen, if that orange thing is shining bright. Or you will regret it in the morning. That tell tale sign of a pink to red glowing skin will advertise the fact you happily removed your cardigan/v-neck jumper/light weight jacket.
If your al fresco experience fell on a Sunday, you could return to the office on a Monday with a hint of garlic and alcohol on your breath, back in your cardigan/v-neck jumper/light weight jacket, umbrella just in case. Wondering if you imagined that sweaty, gluttonous, slice of heaven.
The great British barbie.
Music is optional, laughter is vital.
Sharing the experience with friends is preferable.
As are silly faces and a Gruffalo.
Preparation. Summer fruit and orange and mango through a straw.
Playing nicely before the food was ready.
Lost in their own imagination.
When you're trying to eat your lunch and some crazy kid keeps pulling silly faces.
Silly faces lunch, part two.
Who brought the Gruffalo?