Kimberley’s book, Vibrant Food, arrived rather unexpectedly on a Friday evening a couple of weeks ago. It had been one of those days/weeks/months where I’d fallen slightly out of love with food. Deciding what to eat for dinner every night had become a chore. We’d gone to restaurants where I’d struggled to find anything I fancied on the menu. There was a pile of food magazines by the side of my bed that I couldn’t really be bothered to read.
It’s been an odd sort of summer so far. Not bad-odd at all; it just feels like summer itself has been a bit elusive this year. Here we are, hurtling towards the dog days of July and no matter how many strawberries or apricots or nectarines I eat, it’s hard to convince myself that it’s anything other than mid-April. I know it’s a cliche to say that every year seems to fly past ever quicker but it’s really, really true.
I’d be the first to admit that “pretty” food and, by extension, taking “pretty” pictures of food are not my forte. I have neither the patience nor the ability for either and, whilst I admire those who do, I’ve made peace with my own limitations.
I’ve always loved Ashley’s “Dating my Husband” series (and am eagerly awaiting the book of the same name) but I’ve always naively assumed that the concept didn’t really apply to my relationship with my boyfriend. We don’t have children or any other dependents to distract us from each other. We eat dinner together almost every night of the week. We have, after all, just come back from a week in Sardinia where we barely spoke to anyone else.