The last time I watched Clermont play Ulster, I was in Bono’s Octagon Bar in Dublin, sipping on a Grey Goose martini, with an afternoons worth of shopping bags scattered at my feet.
Last night, I watched the two square off again, but instead of snacking on vodka soaked olives, I had a plate of homemade crêpes courtesy of Papa’s Wife stacked in front of me, and a bottle of Médoc to wash them down with.
And for the record, I have no idea which setting I prefer more… my inner city girl is all over the martini soaked bar scene, but my cozy side loved watching it at Papa’s house with a sleeping Ruby cuddled up next to me. It’s a bit like Sophie’s Choice really.
But one thing I’m knowing for sure at the moment…
My heart belongs to these two. And it’s OK, The Husband totally understands. That there on the right is Julien Pierre. He’s as tall as a tree and I kind of want to climb him. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
And another thing I always know…
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