Last weekend, like this weekend and every other weekend was a relaxed, indulgent joy in Chorlton. It must be the best place in the world to cook, eat, walk, drink and read newspapers. I realize this is a older kind of weekend I imagined for 25 year old me, but you can't argue with the things that make you feel like yourself. And being at home watching James Martin ignore people on Saturday Kitchen (that I record and watch on a Sunday) sets the tone of my weekend. If I don't get to watch Saturday Kitchen, Sky+'d, I know it's gonna be a crazy one.
I've been working on Yorkshire Puddings from scratch. My mother must be proud of me.
Before Oliver and I go in November, I want to document as much of my everyday life as I can because I just don't know how long we'll be away for or where we'll end up. That's the best part of our plan. In that spirit I've been taking pictures of walls and floors, streets and shops, that kind of thing. Like a scrapbook that'll last a long time.
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