Working on something recipe-related out here in the real world. Blogging will resume in 2017.
Last Saturday, I was sitting in a bus on my way to the city centre. A woman got on the bus, carrying a handbag and a bucket. A bucket. It’s March, so she clearly couldn’t be planning to go berry picking. For a moment I figured she had just bought the bucket (who doesn’t need a bucket?) and was on her way home, but it was before 9 am and the shops weren’t open yet. So, what?
Friend: ”Hey, I’m spring cleaning this Saturday, come and help out! It’s BYOB, bring your own bucket!”
An ultra-modern fashion statement: instead of a boring old tote bag, she decided to put her groceries in a way cool bucket.
Perhaps there is a source for some super fresh milk somewhere in town.
It was interesting. Whatever the reason for the bucket, I hope she did not intend to kick it. Oh harity-har.
An unpaid adevertisment for the wonderfulness that is Restaurant Day – a food carnival when anyone can open a restaurant for a day!
Let’s face it it: when there is a shitmotherfuckinfuckshit situation, ”oh shoot” is just not going to cut it. Swear words exist because we need them. The brilliant Stephen Fry says so too. So there. Be convinced by his pillow analogy!
All hail the bubbling, frothing, slobbering, creaming and downright necessary expression! This I solemnly swear.