After the wasabi debacle, beer was needed to wash away all of that burning pain, so we headed to the pub and let the guys set up camp (setting up camp involves trying out three different tables before finally settling on ‘the table’). The Six Nations was kicking off that afternoon, first with Ireland vs. Wales and then, England vs. Scotland and we settled in for a long afternoon of rugby fun.
Two hours of rugby fun was plenty for Mrs. London and me, so after Ireland beat Wales (thanks for the birthday present guys), we popped around the corner to get our hair done for dinner.
We had dinner at Le Bain Marie. It was far too elegant and grown-up for The Husband and Mr. London, and I begged them to be on their best behavior (which amazingly they were for the most part)Â
And when we asked them to play nicely with each other (that means no stabbing each other with forks, no pulling out chairs or attempting atomic wedgies), that photo above is what happened (there were two couples at our table that night, just not the two you would think).Â
Dessert came and the waiter surprised me with Happy Birthday sparklers, which the two guys decided to fashion into love hearts. Well Mr. London’s looked like a heart, The Husband’s looked more like a strawberry, but A+ for effort, and the mini art project kept them busy and their mischievous little hands out of trouble (mental note: remember to bring activity packs for outings with The Husband and Mr. London; crayons, coloring books, toy cars…)
The next morning, we were on the road out of Avignon and bidding adieu to my birthday weekend. Since it was early, and why not, we popped by Gordes on the way home. We had some time to kill before the France vs. Italy match (oh what a disaster that was) and the Superbowl much later that night.Â
Mr. London was sure that the 49ers would win, but The Husband said it would be the Ravens (not because he’s a fan, or he knows anything about American football, but because the Ravens are the team that the kid from the Blind Side plays for and The Husband is a sucker for a happy ending) so naturally, all of the bickering back and forth, resulted in a bet. Whoever’s team lost, would have to give the other a pedicure. A pedicure! (I really don’t know what goes through their heads. I mean really, whatever happened to betting €20 or something).Â
Well we all know how that bet turned out and I for one cannot wait for The Husband to have pretty, pedicured tootsies. And of course I will be documenting it for posterity (that really means for you guys).
bisou
 
It's Me, Sara Louise 
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