Sunday roast on a Saturday with the family? Why not!
Mum and dad live about an hour from us, so I jumped into the car and ploughed down the motorway, eager to see the family and tastebuds watering at the prospect of roast lamb.
Steve was unwell so couldn't make it this time. This did however mean that dad got rosemary on his lamb, something he doesn't get if Steve is there as he really dislikes the taste.
It's been a little while since I've seen my aunt and uncle and two out of three of my cousins were there.
Emma, the oldest of the cousins, is getting married this year so I caught up on wedding plans with her and her fiance, Paul.
Mum doesn't get to see her brother that often and when they do get together it is hard to get an word in edgeways!
After hugs and greetings all round the bubbles came out.
Sadly I was driving so had to stick to the non-alcoholic bubbles (fizzy water and fresh lime. Which dad keeps on the patio. Obviously).
With music from the Buddha Bar playing in the background it was time to sit down.
Everyone says that their mum's cooking is the best. My mum's really is. Eating at my parents house is like tastebud disco, complete with sequin flares and platform wedges.
Starter: New potato salad with smoked anchovies, parmesan flakes, fresh green beans, pancetta and a walnut dressing.
Roast lamb for main. Potato gratin, parsnips, shredded leek, pea and bacon in a cream sauce.
Even Moses was after the lamb!
A lot of wine got opened. And drunk. And opened again,
Before moving onto dessert.
Mango tart tatin. Minus the tart bit unfortunately as mum got too carried away in the kitchen and had a slight accident.
This didn't need the tart though; it was light, fresh and citrusy. The mango had been steeped in lime and the cream had fresh flakes of coconut running through it. It was like being on a beach in Koh Phangan rather than South London!
Cheese boards were all laid out and ready to be carried through to the living room. Groaning we made our way there, slightly daunted at the prospect of yet more food.
My sister got the fire going and we all curled up in our favourite seats to share childhood stories, reminisce about made up games that were half forgotten and laugh about old mishaps.
There was more wine. Sadly not for me though.
I had plans with friends back in Canterbury that night so I quietly slipped away, leaving them to continue their merrymaking well into the evening.