I can’t sit still. No, not because of those (although memories of postpartum you-know-whats make me shiver to this day). I’m just not very good at doing nothing. If I’m in an empty house and I’m not working, I’m cleaning or picking stuff up and moving it from one room to another. And, ever the …
When I was six I stepped on Mickey Mouse’s tail accidentally (on purpose) to increase my fancy dress chances at the local village fete, only to come second. From that day, I resigned myself to the fact that I am just not one of those competition-winning type people. Until now, that is. Since I started …
I’ve been to a Christmas Fair tonight in the local Stately. I drank warm white wine and discussed cushions. I bought socks and a magnetic dartboard as presents. This is what warm white wine does to you. Stay clear. This week’s white in the fridge: The Reach Sauvignon Blanc 2009, £6.49 on offer, Tesco A reader – a …
There has been a lot of talk about wine talk recently. Among wine writers, that is. From what I can gather, they are arguing that one wine drinker’s blackberries are another wine drinker’s raspberries. Should we really be so aroma and flavour-descriptive when tasting wine is so subjective? Well, when I’m buying something that I haven’t tried before …
My 6yo boy’s favourite current pastime is writing secret agent-type notes, folding them into paper aeroplanes and pinging them round the door of the kitchen. They land softly at my feet and he scampers back up the stairs, shrieking with laughter. Recent notes include baddies are poo heads and – my personal favourite – i love you big bum that …
Last night we held a Knackered Mothers’ Wine Club tasting at a local restaurant (the amazing Graze) to raise a bit of cash for our local nursery. It was a heady mix: eight wines + inquisitive people up for trying different wines + company of friends both old and new. The result was delicious. Lots of laughter, slurping, a bit of spitting, far more …
My mother is about to appear at the door with our supper. She doesn’t do this every night – that would make me lazy – but she lives a few doors down and her roast chicken always saves me whenever I’m husband-less and on the verge of morphing into a shouting nightmare. We’re going to …
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