Nominally for Mum’s birthday, and in a compromise based on when I am and am not available whilst back in the homestead, we go out for a brunch at Postino Lounge, of the Lounge family. I am encouraged by the fact that they have baby guinesses on the menu, but as it is in the region of ten thirty in the morning, I decide against it. Probably for the best. Instead, I opt for something all together more traditional, a full English breakfast. It is, as is the case with most of these places, fine? I always feel bad when I say that, because it sounds so dismissive, but really it’s not bad. The hash browns are nicely crisp, the sausage pretty good in the scheme of things. The beans are served in a miniature cup in the centre of the plate which, whilst more ostentatious than I would prefer, is broadly something I’m in favour of. I wash it down with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice which is, fair play, actually very nice indeed. Admittedly I could probably have gone for a baby guinness alongside all of this, but I wasn’t really going to wait however many hours it would take for that to be acceptable.