Leo eyed his green glass with suspicion this morning, then declared it, 'delicious, quite simply delicious', before resuming his spotify-search for a suitable chant and assuming his latest Assana position. Hugo, Leo Senior, who's staying for some quality father/son time, looks bewildered, probably wondering whether he has bypassed waking up and is dreaming of life on Mars. Or maybe this what all those virtuous souls at N.I.C.E are fussing about; the hallucinogenic effects of a couple of glasses of Chateauneuf-du-Pape with dinner?
As Leo emerges from a metrosexual hug, Hugo asks:
'So Sunshine, where have you been on your magic carpet his morning ?'
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