Year of dates - F-ing February Date

February was an F-themed date night for our year of dates.

It start off iffy. We were a month behind due to family (aka babysitters) being selfish and flying overseas and our dance card was filling up. So that one is postponed.

Then the 1st Feb came along and my brilliant idea to scoot along the coast in a scooter and have a picnic lunch fell flat because the company folded. Feeling forlorn I fretted until a fabulous find came into focus - FringeWorld and Francoforte. Freaking fabulous.

We desperately needed it. Hubby was feeling flustered at having failed to get the job he'd been working in for the past six months. I was becoming a formidable stay-at-home mum; feeling unfulfilled, being demanding, get very attached. We were not talking about anything other than work and babies. We needed to find ourselves.

However, I was feeling fevery and very faecal, literally. Dodgy Chinese the night before got the better of me. But I soldiered forward and onwards.

Mango sorbet and my crazy Hubby - the only things to settle my stomach

Dropping Mini Me off and we headed to my favourite Perf (he he... Perth with an F) festival, Fringe. On the last night we were lucky to score rush tickets to see Beau Heartbreaker a female, acting as a male dairy farmer who struggles to find themselves and ultimately comes out to the parents as.... I'll leave you to watch the show. It's was fascinatingly funny with fables and heart-felt songs intertwined. And he/she and I had a lot of eye contact. Maybe we had chemistry.

Feeling famished, we hot-footed it to a recently opened pasta bar at Williams Arcade called Francoforte. I really wished I was feeling fine because the flavoursome menu with offbeat combinations like kale and lemon pesto took my fancy.

Francoforte's fine feast

But I played it safe with a pork sausage sugo and Hubby ordered the carbonara. I found it was like my family's recipe. The sugo was straight from nonna's kitchen and the carbonara much lighter than mum's heavy cream laden feast.

And to conclude there was no F-ing as there was enough flatulence in the bathroom to scare any good man off.

I fell fast asleep. Sorry babe.