But rather than dwell on it, I am going to do this meme that Christina has most kindly set me. It's a comfort food kind of a meme, pleasantly distracting to do, possibly terribly dull to read ( I enjoyed hers a great deal, but then her blog - life! - is full of glorious glamour. There is no discussion of missing strimmer wires or discount supermarkets).
Favourite time of day
About nine in the morning, before it all goes to shit. Ideally the conditions are as follows:
Walking through my old Fitzrovia hangouts, chest swelling with slightly melancholy but pleasurable nostalgia.
Heading out for breakfast somewhere I love. Russell Square maybe, with the leaves turning and shafts of sunlight filtering through the trees and that very particular smell of London winters, diesel and leaf mulch and coffee, and a note of something indefinable that says home. Fuck, I just made myself cry. I am desperately homesick for London, or possibly just for the time I lived in that part of it.
But I'll settle for anywhere when it's vaguely bright and I can go and sit in a café with a cup of coffee and the paper for 20 minutes.
Where and when did you meet the love of your life?
On the internet, a little over a year ago.
We can't be together right now, we probably never will be, but I'll always love him. He said it was ok if I talked about him. He's intensely private, but we discussed it, and he says it's ok if I mention him sometimes.
You're intrigued now, aren't you?
Look, here he is.
What three words would your friends from outside the blogging world use to describe you?
Scary. Flaky. Awkward.
What country would you like to visit and why?
Ok, this is shameful, but I've never even been to the States. So there.
What's your favourite dish to cook?
I hate cooking, can't be arsed, I'd rather bake. But I can make pasta with béchamel and spinach au gratin in my sleep, because back in the day when I was responsible for cooking once a week at home in York (I really need to institute this here soon. I mean 8? He's nearly ready for burny, boily stuff, surely?), I always, but ALWAYS, made that, or cauliflower cheese. If you made cauliflower cheese, then Prog Rock couldn't appropriate the cauliflower and make it into the dreaded cauliflower curry.
Alternatively, my friend Bath Bun gave me a brilliant recipe for overnight bread no knead bread that gives you a delicious glow of smugness for zero effort, which I will give you:
"7g dry yeast
500 ml warm water
600g flour (any kind, and you can add seeds or nuts or whatever you wish)
2 tsp salt
Put the dry ingredients in a bowl and mix. Add water, then mix to a firm slop. Cover with clingfilm or a damp cloth and put in fridge overnight. Next day, shape balls of dough with wet hands, dust with flour, cook at 230° for 20 minutes".
Salt or sugar?
Both together at the same time, please. And can you add some butter too? And cream? Then boil them up for a little while to a thick, gloopy consistency? And serve with a pancake and a small ball of vanilla ice cream? Thanks.
(I think on balance that's sweet)
What are your favourite make up and beauty items?
I have a whole blog for this shit, admittedly moribund for the moment as the two of us fight our way through the ravages 2010 is throwing our way. But I could manage with only: Chanel Coco Mademoiselle lipstick, Bobbi Brown gel eyeliner, Laura Mercier tinted moisturiser, Armani blush, Origins Ginger Scrub.
What are your favourite flowers?
Hyacinths. Blue or white ones, the pink are vile. I love freesias too, the flowers my mum always put by my bed on special occasions, or when I came home in adulthood.
What are your worst vices?
Oh god, too many to list. How about a dreary tendency to excessive self-flagellation? It's boring. But also laziness, envy, impracticality, shyness, and being a total WIMP. Yeah, that. That's the thing that pisses me off the most, actually. My lack of courage.
At what time of your life were you happiest and why?
Maybe when I first started writing this blog. Suddenly all these funny, compassionate people who liked sculpting vegetables and discussing capybaras and who had the kind of black, but hopeful outlook on life that made me want to go round to every one of their houses for cups of tea erupted in my life. And it was amazing. It still is, but at the moment I am trudging through a trench of crapness in various parts of my life that put a dampener on my joy. But I could never, ever regret starting writing this blog because of precisely that - the people I have met, talk to online, may never meet but who have given me vast amounts of pleasure and solace and laughs.
1997 was good too. It was the year we moved to London, the bastard Tories had been vanquished and everything seemed to carry a slightly magical sheen of optimism.
Would anyone like to do this in the comments? I'd love to read it.