fads of the week

Yes, this will be a fad intermittently until the time is actually upon us. We went to the markets at last this week, but they were so busy that we just had a sausage and a beer and then escaped. Need to pick a quieter time to go. Also, I booked my trains to go home-home for Christmas. Heading south. Hopefully I won’t have to drag my suitcase through the snow to get the station, like last year. Also, there may or may not be another TBA dress on my imaginary Christmas list.

Bacon Sandwich.
I worked from home for the first time ever on Friday. Aside from the fact that that is wonderful in itself, it also meant that I could partake in a bacon-sandwich-lunch-break. My favourite kind of lunch break. Burnt toast, a slick of butter and loads of ketchup, and piled high with an abundance of crispy bacon. Perfect.

Definitely Maybe.
Thanks to Zane Lowe, of all people, I saw Definitely Maybe trending on Twitter this week. Which forced me to give it a little whirl of my own. I will always love it.

Because I am Matilda, I am desperate to see this.

This has already been a fad once before. But like Christmas, this is going to be an intermittent one. Until February. WHEN WE GO TO BERLIN. Eeeeeep! Finally, we’ve booked a holiday. And we’re staying in basically the trendiest hotel you’ve ever seen. And we’re just going to hop from trendy bar to trendy bar. You know the drill. So excited.


on the kitchen table that your grandfather did make

Today I worked from home. For the first time ever. It’s, like, my ideal situation. Only nagging problem was the fact that the boy happened to be off too. Turns out, he’s like a toddler when you’re trying to work from home. In the end, I set him a baking task to keep him occupied for a while, which resulted in me getting way involved anyway. First it was the argument about whether to use the electric whisk or not (I was saying yes, he was saying no – I won). Next, I gave him strict chocolate-melting-instructions and he was doing fine. That is until I heard him utter This chocolate isn’t runny enough, I’m going to add some hot water and BOOM. Just like that. Before I had time to jump up and say no. A spoonful of water and solid lump of chocolate later, the boy looked somewhat crestfallen. It’s one of those mistakes you’ll never make twice.

So, anyway, I’ve finished my day’s work and emailed it off to my editor (haaa, you don’t realise how absurd this sounds, but I just couldn’t resist) and we managed to salvage some of the dessert. And we’re having steak for dinner and an early night with books as we’ve both got to be up early. Et voila.

fads of the week

The work experience I did last week resulted in me being offered some paid freelance work. This means I will actually be paid in sterling for writing words down in a suitable fashion. For asking someone questions and transcribing and turning it into something people can read. This will be an absolute first. An absolutely delighting first. I don’t want to get too excited though, in case it’s just a one-off. I mean, what do you reckon, is it too early to get my business cards printed?

My new shift dress of dreams.
As I was browsing my local vintage shops yesterday I came across a plain black shift dress, clearly from the 60s. I thought, Ooh, I haven’t got a plain black shift dress, clearly from the 60s – I better try this on. At this point, the earth didn’t move. It was more a case of pragmatism than desire and anyway, I had a few other things to try on at the same time, so the shift dress wasn’t really moving mountains. But as I put it on, it was as if heavenly angels sang in unison. Seriously, it fitted me better than any other dress I have in my wardrobe. Like it had been made to measure. The collar, shoulders, darts, length, hips. All in the right place. All sitting perfectly. I couldn’t believe my luck. I snapped it up for a mere £18 and can now officially say I have a little black dress in my wardrobe. A perfect little black dress which was made to measure and couldn’t be more me if it tried.

Working nine to five, what a way to make a living.
I’ve already banged on about this, I know. The cows have officially gone home. But for the purposes of these fads, it needs mentioning again. I haven’t had a 9-5 routine for about 6 years, since my school days (and even then, it wasn’t strictly speaking 9-5). So the work experience I did last week gave me that little glimpse back into a routined and normal life. I say normal only because it’s the life all my other friends and family lead. I have to say, it’s hard being at work in the evenings or at the weekends when you know everyone else is have a jolly good knees-up. I mean, sometimes, it’s fine. But when it’s every week, it starts to grate. I am longing for free evenings and weekends, by default. Just got to keep plugging away and hopefully it’ll become a reality soon. (Obviously, if it ever does, I will moan endlessly about the fact that I never have a day off in the week and have to do my shopping at the same time as the rest of humanity. Can’t win.)

The Manchester Christmas Markets.
Those of you who follow me on twitter will know that I was on market watch all week. The sheds were popping up all over the place. And I could hear lots of German voices as I made my way around town. There’s generally loads more people about – the markets always create a little buzz in the air. Apart from the fact that it’s nowhere near cold enough for market time, I’m excited to take my first little stroll around them. Obviously it will not be at the weekend (I’d rather not, thank you) and I will not be partaking in any mulled-wine drinking (urgh, I’d rather not, thank you) but I will eat cheese and drink boozy coffees and German beers and eat fancy stews and the best sausages ever and look for unique Christmas presents. I’ll be seeing you shortly, markets! (This photo is from last year and all I can remember is being so cold I could’ve cried.)

My latest book.
Yet again, I’m head over heels with the book I’m reading. Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay. As you can see, I’m going for something of a war theme at the moment. I’m only about a third of the way through, but Uhhhhh, what’s going to happen?

fashion, life

the highest branch on the apple tree, it was my favourite place to be

My work experience has to come to what may or may not have been a fruitful end. More on that another day. But tonight I am making my return to my actual job. Not so smug now, am I? Needs must, but hopefully change is afoot. So, I have spent my last hours of denial lazing in bed this morning and then venturing out this afternoon for some shopping/trying on-in-Retro-Rehab/getting-of-essentials and then I came back to some tidying/ironing. I’m literally about to dash out of the door, back to the day job (well, evening job. Urgh.) I shall be seeing you tomorrow for fads and things.


i’d beg for some forgiveness, but begging’s not my business

Right, I know I’m banging on about it, but I was home before 6pm today. Came in to a spotless flat (entirely thanks to the boy) which is heavenly in itself. I’ve put a wash on. I’m getting the dinner ready for when the boy comes home soon. Then I’ll watch some crap tv without feeling guilty (a first) while he potters about on his spaceship (computer). I must say, this work experience is working out quite well, even if it’s only because it’s giving me a glimpse into a life of free evenings which could give me the motivation I need to get out. I mean I’m only an amateur at the moment (ie. coming straight home and revelling in my guilt-free-freedom from the sofa) but if this keeps going, I might even find myself delving into the realms of after-work drinks and socialising. HAPPY HOUR. Watch this space.


i’m ready to go anywhere, i’m ready for to fade into my own parade

Well hello. Firstly, apologies for missing the fads on Sunday. Think I’ve already mentioned it, but I landed myself a bit of work experience this week. You know, one of those Monday to Friday, nine to five thingies. So I spent Sunday swotting up and polishing my shoes (believe whichever of those you like). It’s only day two, but I must say I could get used to this being-home-every-evening lark. I’ve already had my dinner, got my pyjamas on, made a hot water a bottle and camped out in front of the telly, ready to watch the football. Bish/bash/bosh. I could also get used to this wearing-my-own-clothes lark! Can’t explain how refreshing it is to be able to choose a different outfit for each day. It’s making me look at my wardrobe completely differently. One day, my real life will be like this too.

literature, poetry

if i should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field/ That is forever England. There shall be/ in that rich earth, a richer dust concealed;/ A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware/ Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam/ A body of England’s, breathing English air,/ Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,/ A pulse in the eternal mind, no less/ Gives somewhere back the thoughts that by England given;/ Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;/ And laughter learnt of friends; and gentleness/ In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.