I have a confession to make. I have piles. Giant piles. Really annoying piles. There’s one in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, and several in the office. I spent a good part of last week organising the flat, and this task has spilled into this week. Because I rewarded myself with an eyebrow wax (well, both eyebrows, I don’t like to be uneven) and a trip to Starbucks on Friday. With the help of my new people, several black…
Tuesday 28th December 2010 We say we’ll be on the road by 10.00. It is noon before we set off. I am wedged in the backseat between some bags, two tires and Sarge. By 3.00, I have lost feeling in my ass. I find it again when twisting to take photos through the windows. My father has never been good at time-keeping. The fact that he has his own time zone is part of his charm. We always get where…
We went back to Glasgow last weekend to help Dad and Anne decorate their tree and see some friends. The younger-than-us people sitting across from us on the train thought we were Mormon, because of Sarge’s beard. We figured they meant Amish, but further figured they were too drunk to compare and contrast. We arrived in Glasgow laughing and cold, with some doughnuts to test on my people. The second batch looked more like doughnuts. So much more that Sarge…
There is Christmas shopping to be done, but I didn’t want to go out on Saturday. Strange, me not wanting to go out. I embraced this feeling and spent time reading books and poems, sometimes aloud. Sarge went out and came home with a haircut and a bottle of Kahlúa. And ingredients for a Backseat Baking Adventure: Cider Doughnuts. This is our own spin on the recipe, which I found via the lovely Emily Drinking Tea . For our own…
