I am a sucker for any kind of farmers' market, but there's something magical about the markets in Europe. This morning -- or I should say afternoon because we slept until 11 -- we sauntered hand-in-hand through the Stockbridge Market down the street from our flat, pausing to taste olives, fresh eggs from wee hens, cheeses, garlic, and apples. We bought gorgeously unpasteurized brie, a fresh baguette, a garlic & olive mixture, coffee, and some Isle of Mull cheddar. So if you're looking to casually run into us on a Sunday, you know where to find us. Now off to nurse my cheese belly with a gin & tonic. Life is good here. 
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