As we headed out of 2016 and into 2017, a tinge of melancholy haunted my blog posts. I’m not sure if this came through in the reading, but it was definitely how I felt in the writing. The blame for this blue period? A combination of winter and a festive season spent away from my parents (oh and the whole now-that-I've-got-a-job-is-the-London-honeymoon-period-over-? situation of last week). This week I thought it time to snap out of it, put my blues in the rear view. And do you know the perfect way to snap yourself out of the sads? A Sunday roast in a British pub. It’s a reason, in and of itself, to pack up your life and move to the other side of the world. To walk into a pub on a Sunday afternoon, whether it be a scruffy dive or a gastro-xtravagana, is to know something delicious and comforting and lovely is about to happen (and probably a hangover for Monday morning but let’s skip that part for now). My most recent Sunday pub roast had the added bonus of being a celebration.