A few years ago my partner and I realised that we were done with simple carbohydrates: Pasta had failed us too often; I could never cook white rice to save my life; and spuds had just become background noise.
I would love to do a podcast or a vlog with a doctor. It’s been on my mind for a while now. There would only be one rule: No discussions of ailments.
Ah, parenthood: it’s great isn’t it? Except for those times when it isn’t quite.
This is about the bad times: the good times can speak for themselves.
One day – just one day – I would like a bunch of pharmacists get together to write a full explanation of what it is that they do behind that counter.
I like a drink, and I always have. The problem is what comes the following day.
For so long our front garden was the ultimate dumping ground for their waste. There was an entire bathroom, a lath and plaster wall, and several layers of wallpaper, bagged up and covered in layers of snow.
The world is such a deep and intricate place. I wish I could even begin to describe the beauty every moment carries, and then lets go. I can’t, so I won’t.