I’m not sure if I’ve shared this one with you before, but I am a rather bitter and angry person, and that bitterness sometimes spills over in to abject contempt.
I’d like to sit both ends of this phony Culture War down together for a nice cup of tea and a chat. It would be great.
One of the reasons I set this blog up was to have a good old fashioned rant about all sorts of things which get on my nerves.
I had grown sick of sharing that with my nearest and dearest, and I think they had become weary of it, too.
Another adventure in the newest sci-fi dystopia serialisation of a story which will not be seen in a cinema near you.
What shocks me is the ability of some people to take offence at food which differs even slightly from that which their mother made while they were growing up.
I have often taken the view that life is utterly meaningless, and I find that unshakeable.
I cook alone, because I like to be in control of all of the processes. To be helped by someone would require far too much explanation of the minutiae of what I am looking for, for it to be of any practical benefit.