I always thought that when I grew up two things would happen.
Firstly, people falling over would stop being amusing. This has not happened. Also, I am often the one falling over. Can’t wait for the ice to return to the pavements, and my bum to return to the floor. Again.
Secondly, that I would drink coffee every morning before heading out to work as a high-flying lawyer. But as it turns out, solicitors in the UK do not live the lives that I saw on L.A. Law.
And I do not like coffee. At all. Which kills me, because the smell is gorgeous and cafe life appeals to me. So I stick with tea, but have recently branched out to Earl Grey from builder’s brew English Breakfast.
So when Wendy offered me a slice of coffee cake, homemade coffee cake, I was not going to refuse. It would have been impolite. Plus the word “cake” overrode my worries about the word “coffee.” But worry not, dear Reader, because no one could have faked enjoying that cake they way I devoured it. Delicious. I was even tapping the plate for stray crumbs. Coffee is slowly seducing my taste buds.
We ate our cake, drank our tea and chatted about Wendy’s experience of breastfeeding and what she felt about the bond that it gave her and her daughter, the wonderful blue-eyed Rosa. She’s a mum, lost in the happy whirlwind of her first child, and a woman who loves her job, finding herself caught in the battle between the two. It’s the push and pull of balancing life that so many of the working mums I meet and photograph experience. But one look at Rosa and the way that Wendy cradles her, holds her close, nourishes her every need and you know it’s a balance she will definitely find.