Farewell Cafe Rouge, Hiya Jetlag
So I go away for three weeks and the world goes mad. Cafe Rouge gone. As though it were Nido; gone. Whilst Croma flaunts it’s marquees and me and the pearly princess share jet lag they shut Didsbury’s original status brand. Whilst courting, Didsbury Wife and I would meet at Cafe Rouge for early tea, coffee and a Colgate snog, penned in our corner seat whilst our Cappuccino went cold. Didsbury Son marched its floors at the beginning of the century and the twins have trodden in the same pattern. So long and thanks for all the Guardian Sports sections. Sorry, it was me who whipped them.
Three weeks in Florida. I have sweated more than ( insert disgraced entertainer) in court. I have eaten more crisps than Gary Lineker and I have seen rockets launched, a dolphin’s teeth and avoided theme parks.
It has been a right of passage, with no rest and lots of toddler counting and jumping. Your guide will follow but this jetlagged midnight is the first time I have had without a child testing joint strength since we left Ringway.
The best coffee of the holiday – Cafe Nero after we landed. I am tanned, tired, happy to be home and wishing I was still there.
To those people who said we were mad to fly long haul with toddlers and travel with them. You were right, but it was hilarious and the only danger was Didsbury Son dislocating his jaw at the procession down Ocean Drive in Miami.