I wouldn’t say I had yet fully made the conversion to happy gardener; my work tends to come in sporadic, short bursts, but I certainly tackle it more willingly than I used to. It provides a healthy and potentially productive way to fill the long, empty gaps that Covid-bloody-19 has forced into my life.
A plus of solo lockdown is the time and inclination to return to baking. It seems half the country wants to make bread now and my Twitter TImeline and DMs are suddenly full of rising times and sourdough starters and I’m fine with all of it.
Last week, found me pulling things out of my, currently unused, BDSM toy bag to create a somewhat submissive shot. This week, I’ve been in the bag again, but have gone for somethign more dominant.
I’d seen the harness on a previous visit to the central london rental dungeon and wondered if it was expandable enough to fit me. I have a thing for tight leather bondage harnesses and have bought a few over the years.
I’m in an AirBNB cottage near my parents, one I’ve used before. Together with my chef son, who arrives later, I’m cooking a birthday Sunday lunch for my mum and a bunch of friends and family.
It might not sound much of a Saturday night. However, I had a wonderful night with my love earlier this week and I got to play poker this afternoon, so I’m cool with doing the ironing and watching some TV. I’ll pour some wine in a minute.
I’m in her kitchen, massaging garlic, cinnamon and lemon juice into a half-shoulder of lamb. It’s Greek Kleftiko. The dish is that unusual thing, a holiday food that actually works at home.
I’m at her’s, on one of those beautiful late-summer weekends that always feels like a gift. She was doing some garden tidying, so I offered to cut the lawn.
I admit it; I enjoyed the appreciation of my last Sinful Sunday. If you get to my age, and you spend as much time as I do complaining about your own body, publishing a picture of it that gets a bunch of favourable comments, and a Sinful Sunday top five call out, is a fun… Read More »
Finding myself unexpectedly home alone this Sunday, and a little hungover after a wonderful party last night, I’ve given myself a free pass and am having a somewhat unambitious day.
Time zones are tricky little buggers. I’ve been crossing a lot of them lately; eight to the west for my poker holiday in Las Vegas, now seven to the east for a short business trip to China.
I knew as soon as I saw the apartment on Airbnb I would have to rent it for us. If you were to ask me what decorating style I like, I’d probably answer modern Scandinavian (no, not Ikea) or perhaps New England. In short, the absolute antithesis of this place.