THE MOTHER LAND

I got emotional when high street fashion store Esprit asked me to go to my mother land Germany. Yes, dear readers, my surname really is as exotic as it sounds.

So myself and some other journos (lucked out when Nellist and Lucy Reber, Red mags shopping ed extraordinaire got an invite too #dreamteam).

Given the fact that childhood trips to Germany involved a diet of Nutella sandwiches, bratwurst, teddybear ham, gherkins, and was the location of the very first time I ate cow tongue and also a dog biscuit (not in the same meal), whilst my relatives booze cupboards contained bottles with such high alcohol content they had skull and cross bones printed on the front, I knew what to expect. Us Germans have got the fine cuisine thing down.

So a cheese baguette on the plane and FRENCH fancies in the bedroom (cakes not antics) weren't the best start.

However, things improved beyond my wildest dreams at the Esprit party, with a spread to end all spreads (LOOK mag birthday spreads aside, obvs).
There was literally a food stand for every possible taste - chinese, indian, mini burgers, italian, salad bar, general meat bar, cheese, puddings. My god it was good. I loved the attention to detail too, all the glasses and crockery were mismatched. I assume this was a nod to the shabby chic look, not an attempt to cut corners to supply for the colossal quantity of booze, the champers quite literally flowed all night, a bit like Nellist's love for Mark Ronson who performed at the do and did an excellent job of avoiding any form of eye contact with Nellist, despite her attempts.

On the way out we checked out the pudding bar, and had mega lolz with Jodie sinking her finger into a perfs chocolate tart and me smearing said tart all over my face. Appaz we didn't get the memo about it being rude to play with our food. I really hope my mum isn't reading this.

Danke, Deutschland! Eichler Xxxxxxxxxxx