This, as the Bug has christened it, is popping wine. Mummy calls it Cava, Prosecco, or on rare occasions Champagne. Not sure why, I mean it’s basically fizzy wine, isn’t it?

Mummy will often share a bottle of wine with Daddy, or a friend. Cava, I have observed, is not for sharing. It is Mummy’s. And it is through close scrutiny that I have learned this fact: when something is not to be shared, it should be consumed as quickly as possible.

Mummy recently drank a lot of Cava on a tour of the vineyards of Catalunya. That evening I hatched a wonderful plan to surprise her with a special breakfast in bed. I insisted that Daddy take me to the local supermarket to buy popping wine, and it had to be pink. Unfortunately there was no pink Cava, and the requirement for pink was the over-riding factor in my vision. So the following morning, as Mummy groaned her way out of sleep, and mentioned something about a headache, I proudly presented her with a croissant, and a holiday-home tumbler of rosΓ© wine.

I’ll bet she’s so pleased to have such a thoughtful daughter…:)

I was inspired to write about Mummy’s Guilty Pleasures by the Sticky Fingers Photo Gallery. I wonder what other people are guilty of this week?

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