She is one. This seems completely impossible, but the calendar confirms is is true. She sleeps snuggled close to one of us in our big bed. She likes to tuck her feet around against my tummy for warmth, & push against me, just like she did when she grew inside. She uses words – uh
We’ve found a village; tiny, windswept, balanced precariously on the downward slope of a Yorkshire valley. Nearly every house is ancient, with beautiful views, stone walls & wood burning stoves. There are two pubs, no shops, a tiny school and roe deer that roam free & turn up in your back garden in the
A little tug of war inside of me: I love simplicity and clean bright spaces, but I also love STUFF. Especially NEW STUFF and stuff that makes life easier and stuff that reminds me of nice things or people or places. So it’s a balancing act, requiring frequent purges & an occasionally ruthless heart.
Because it’s green there To have a fire & a garden & a stone kitchen floor So the chickens can roam free So Orla can go to a small village school & get an adorable Yorkshire accent Because it snows there instead of raining Because it rains there instead of being grey To see the
After much trial & error & a bit of invention, I think I’ve perfected it. My recipe is based on this one here, but with a few important changes. Ingredients: 10 tbsp salted butter, melted 1 cup caster sugar 1/2 cup dark brown sugar 1 tbsp good quality vanilla essence or almond extract 3
Sundays are for escaping the city & breathing fresh, green air. But first there is breakfast – lazy, always with plural cups of tea, all three of us at the table & The Archers omnibus in the background. Sometimes I make pancakes & we can’t eat them fast enough, so we take turns standing at
It’s not that I’m anti-pink per se… I guess I just don’t want O to grow up thinking it’s her only option. & besides, we already have a lot of pink. Everyone buys pink when you have a baby girl, & though I’d always planned to dress her in white & grey & brown
I have become a bit besotted with biscotti of late. In the hospital, on Boxing Day (a long story), I bought a crappy Americano & dunked a cellophane-wrapped biscotti, & it tasted like the best thing I’d ever eaten. Now I’m obsessed, trying to recreate it. How much almond to include? Vanilla or orange peel?