So much more thrilling than Spain

Happy Laundry Day! I am back in London and currently listening to the hum* of the washing machine on the first of many loads. Today is Catch Up Day: laundry, emails, a meeting, a grocery delivery. All necessary tasks before heading to Scotland tomorrow - Kirkcudbright, specifically (pronounced kir-koo-bree, natch) - for a weekend with MumBetty.

Oooh, groceries are arriving! Hold on.

Hey there, little buddies

I never let the delivery guys carry the bags all the way to the kitchen because I already feel guilty they've had to haul a crate down a flight of steps just to get to my front door. Instead I get it all dropped in the living room, where I can easily forget about it until I remember that I've ordered perishables, at which point I go sprinting back - from wherever I am in the house, doing More Important Things - cursing myself and the carton of milk trying to ruin my life. Every two weeks I play this game, proof that I have reached an age in which I've quit learning.

You know what's in this week's bags? READY MEALS. So I actually have to be quick about unpacking them today. Right after I blog. And you know what else this means? A ROUND OF FREEZER TETRIS. There's no way there's room in there for all of it. And on top of that, they need to be stacked front and center where Al can easily find them next week (he's not one for rooting around). Already it's so full that when I open the door, bags of frozen miscellany cascade down on me like a dull yet aggressive avalanche. SO THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT. 

Laundry One just finished, time to hang it to dry! Wait. Groceries first. Groceries first. I got this.

Big hugs and see you tomorrow,

Esss

*And by 'hum' I mean 'the kind of racket you'd expect of a twenty builders breaking tile with a jackhammer'. I swear the machine is trying to do a runner, inching across the floor in the direction of the door. I CAN SEE YOU, M8. 

I'm sure fireworks will be going off in the background just like last night and I'll pretend to care long enough to half-rise from my seat

OMGYOUGUYS. Best day ever. Went to the chemist, took a jaunt around the supermarket, and was home by 10a just in time for second breakfast. After lunch the bathrobe I found on the back of the bathroom door came on and a terribly self-indulgent chick-flick entertained Betty and I for the better part of an hour (disclosure: it was 2.5 hours long), and now it's nearly time for our lamb and potato supper and the sassy stylings of Strictly Come Dancing.

I think it's safe to say when your entire Saturday can be summarised in two sentences, it's been done well. Coming here is great - no expectations, and all the babybels you can eat. Life beyond the wall is sweet, indeed.

Weather aside.

Tomorrow I'll be taking a train into Edinburgh for a delightful afternoon with Wolf's sister Marie, so the excitement continues!

Bonfire night celebrations also continue - I can already hear the crack of fireworks in Glasgow which can be seen from the kitchen window. Look at the roof of the garages lit up in the reflection of their blast. What beauty.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must continue blissing out*. Big night ahead!

Big hugs and lots of love,
Esss


*doing nothing

On stuffed mice, Southwold, and road trips in France

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. - Rilke 

OMGYOUGUYS. So much has happened these past few weeks:

1. I made the world's most terrifying taxidermy mouse. He is my mangy little treasure and clearly the stuff that nightmares are made of:

I love him so much.

Also, I'm supposed to cut the wires now that he's stiffened, but I can't bring myself to do it. I suspect they're the only thing keeping him upright. (He's so jazz.)

2. A weekend in France indicated that spring arrives there sooner than here. We CYCLED. In the SUN. And we didn't die or need a jacket or ANYthing:

If you follow the lane to where it winds around to the right, you'll come to our back garden!* 

3. We also spent a weekend in Southwold! I'd like to say it's because I can't get enough of coastal England, but really it was because I bought an armchair on eBay and didn't notice until it was too late that it was listed as 'collection only.' 

'But think about how much money I saved!' she justifies, as she reserves a room in a seafront b&b. 

Luckily, Southwold has everything an English seaside town should: 

A pier with a retro arcade in which all the machines have been handmade by the town inventor:

Beach huts:

Village confectionary that advertises via vintage bicycle:

Seafood sold out of harbour-front shack:

Again with vintage bicycle. It's like this town was designed by Instagram.

And Lighthouse:

So really, I don't know HOW one could say I messed up here. 

France update! We officially did the Mega Move: we hired a van here in the UK, packed it full of random furniture and miscellany, and drove it the ten hours down to Bergerac. And I think it is safe to say WE WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN. For one, our sat-nav apparently likes the scenic route, and the van barely fit through tiny village after tiny village. We suspected that nearby there was a highway - there had to have been! - but our garmin refused to guide us there, and our Michelin road map was unfortunately crammed somewhere in a box in the back of the van. Two, an old man in a truck totally took off the van's side mirror when he barreled past us (while we were pulled over, mind), before promptly disappearing into the wind like so many old men going renegade in the French countryside. All we could see was his wild, white, bush-like hair retreating into the distance, his own mirror clattering along. 

It also turns out life in France is a lot like camping. Like how you have to bathe with a garden hose because your builder has gutted your bathroom in the process of installing a new shower. You would think a hose-shower in the cold dawn of early spring would be romantic, except you're also doing it while standing barefoot on what feels like frozen concrete, overlooking the back lane that the neighbors also enjoy. The same neighbors who - after months of being nowhere to be seen - started to appear en masse over the course of the week. (I refuse to believe there is a connection. Also, they are WAY friendlier than stories would have you believe.) Luckily, I've been practicing Not Showering for years, so I handled seven days of filth like a pro.

Also, I think Alan tried to kill me in the act of gardening. There was a thorny little tree climbing up the side of the house (and more importantly, scratching heck out of the top of the rental van) and finally, in a fit of agitation, I decided it needed to come down. We had intended to trim this tree 'eventually, down the road' - but after two days of it attacking us every time we approached, I had enough. I grabbed the hedge-trimming shears, and with a strength known only to enraged hulks, WENT TO TOWN ON IT. It didn't stand a chance. Branches are flying everywhere. And as I was nearly done, Alan grabs the tree and gives it the final yank that will pull it from the wall. And DIRECTLY ONTO MY HEAD. MY HEAD YOU GUYS. A THORNY TREE ON MY HEAD. And as my face and bare arms are being scratched to pieces by this barren twiggy tree completely enveloping my person, I'm pretty sure Alan just stood there, possibly smoking a cigarette. He claimed later that he reacted immediately, but I think we can all agree I was encompassed for about an hour. By the time I emerged, it looked like I had been attacked by a pack of wild cats.

Thank God I could at least clean my scratches under a bone-chilling hose shower.

But it's coming together. Trials and tribulations aside, with each visit down, it starts to look less like a skip and more like a dusty, dirty, box-filled home. We haven't been able to unpack anything yet - our contractor has dust-clothes and plastic draped over every surface - but soon. Soon our stuff will be laid out to collect dust the good-old fashioned way.

I can't wait.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

*I didn't say we cycled FAR. I'm still ME.

On cycling, taxidermy, and very little else

There are some days when I think I'm going to die from an overdose of satisfaction. - Salvadore Dali

OMGYOUGUYS. I am having the best day ever and it's only eleven a.m. Get this: I just got a BIKE. And I RODE it.  For five whole minutes, on the streets of London. I never felt so alive. The wind in my face, the sweat under my coat (from terror rather than exertion, it must be said), the ground so far beneath me that I felt like I was flying: it was incredible. I thought I'd die of fright and thrill. I'll obviously never do it again - my heart just couldn't take it, and I don't have the fearlessness in me that cycling in London requires - but I'll be happy when we take it down to France-house and I can use it to get to and from the nearby lake. I'm going to put flowers in the basket on mother effing PRINCIPLE. And also baguettes, even though I can't stand them (I am pretty sure they are only good as baseball bats). It will be so romantic. I will ding my little bell merrily all the way there. Forget towels and lotion, that's for people with no imagination. And if anybody gives me that judgy French look when I pull up, I'm just going to haughtily untie the ribbon of my charming straw hat, slowly reach for the baguette, and then whack them across the face with it. LIVING THE DREAM!

And in even more exciting news, I've got a taxidermy course today! I am going to learn how to stuff and mount a mouse. I cannot wait. I'm going to give him a little stop sign and use him to warn off the living mice that are no doubt lurking in our ancient Victorian walls and plotting to take over our kitchen.

What a day of firsts!

And because it's been too long since I've posted a completely irrelevant photo of Lake Garda, here you are:

Big hugs and lots of love,
Essss

On brain pickings, high art, and much much lower neurosis

Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. - Anne Lamott

OMGYOUGUYS. Have you discovered Brain Pickings yet? If you have, don't judge me, I'm a little late to the game on this one. (And I owe it to Kyle that I came across it at all.) Don't think for a second of following that link unless you're prepared to lose the next hour(s) of your life, because each link leads to ten more interesting links, and those to ten more, and next thing you know, the sun's gone down, you're fumbling for your glasses, and you feel a strange urge to go to a poetry reading and hug people.

My latest foray into BP was when I followed a link to Anne Lamott on Grief, which then led me to an article on how we keep ourselves small by people-pleasing, and then WHAM, there's Jorge Luis on writing, F. Scott on love stories, and Dani Shapiro on the Creative Life. It's all just too much, youguys. Get in there. When you're done, you'll want to create something wonderful. Or messy. Or anything. Because as Neil Gaiman will tell you, it doesn't matter, just do it.

I really like this stuff because while I'm not a producer of art, I really love people who are. I find what they do impossibly impossible.

Speaking of Jorge and Vik, Argentina is fast approaching! FRIDAY, youguys. That's how fast. FRIDAY. That is, like, three days from now. I have about a book's worth of google maps and flight confirmations and driving instructions and STILL I have the sneaking sensation that I am forgetting something. I lie in bed at night, mentally packing my bag. Virtual sandals, check. Virtual passport, check. Virtual camera--CAMERA! Tripod! BATTERY CHARGER! Where is the last place I saw the battery charger?? The living room socket behind the speaker?? WHERE IS THAT THING! WRITEITDOWNSOMEWHEREBEFOREIFORGET! I lunge for Evernote in the dark hours, tip-tapping away at a thousand lists, syncing and re-syncing, determined to start packing, like, yesterday.  I'll be so exhausted by the time I arrive, I'll probably sleep through the entire holiday.

I CAN'T WAIT.

Big hugs and lots of love,
Essss

On crafts, the winter sky, and fairy wings

Is my paranoia getting completely out of hand, or are you mongoloids really talking about me? - John Kennedy Toole

OMGYOUGUYS. So remember how I had the World's Most Anemic Christmas Decorations to put up? Well, GUESS WHAT CAME IN THE MAIL YESTERDAY. This Christmas banner, handmade by the Indomitable Little Wing:

This is exactly the sort of thing I'd look up how to make on Pinterest, eff up within seconds, and end up buying on Etsy.

Sidebar: I was just double-checking this photo for anything embarrassing prior to posting and I have just realised I have the handiwork of another design genius on display: That Wonderful Bowl. You can't tell, but it's WOODEN and steam-bent and then held together by WOVEN CORD. Of course it was made by the brilliant Aya:

I think we're all reaching the same conclusions from this. 

On a semi-related note: Look at the light quality of the above photo, whose brightness was actually amped up with a filter. This was taken mid-morning in an east-facing room. I intentionally didn't photograph the banner last night because I wanted to show it in natural light, forgetting that we're officially approaching the Shortest Day and that is no longer a thing. This is as bright as my brightest room gets; I have the lights on all day now.

The winter sky in London looks like this: it's not gray, it's a wonderful, flat brown, and if it's not raining, the air is just delightfully WET. A tangible, visible mist, impossible to combat with umbrella, hood, or sword:

 And people wonder why I don't leave the house.

So that's today's cheer for you!

Okay, I really should be going. I just saw a quiz on fb asking What Kind of Wings I Have* and while some might say that's just LUDICROUS and GOING A BIT TOO FAR, I think it's safe to say that FINALLY there's a quiz that tells us something valuable and meaningful about ourselves, and now I can finally prove I'm more dragon than fairy. Because #science.

Big hugs and lots of love,
Essss

*Totally not kidding.  High-five for #angels and #dreams and #unicornsparkles!

Plastic kills, Mom.

Youguys, This Is The Day. The day I prove what proofreading stuff I'm made of. The day I am going to read for twelve straight hours and YEAH, I JUST GOT PRESCRIBED GLASSES, WHAT'S YOUR POINT.

I am going to leave you with Happy Tidbits today in lieu of a proper post. I hope this is cool. If not, GET YOUR OWN BLOG.

Tidbit One, a snippet of a greater story: my sister has blogged about the differences in my nieces, and while the post in its entirety is great, those differences can really be summed up with this single interaction:
The Younger One: [trying to eat a candy cane without taking off the wrapper]
The Older One, alerting my sister: Plastic kills, Mom.

Tidbit Two: Hedgehogs Muffins:

From 19 Things Hedgehogs are Not. PLEASE CLICK THROUGH THERE'S A FAULT IN OUR STARS ONE.

Tidbit Three, from my favourite tumblr. Captions theirs:

WHEN THE PERSON YOU'RE IN BED WITH IS KICKING IN THEIR SLEEP.

WHEN I'M LEFT ALONE WITH SOMEONE I JUST MET.

The internet wins again! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got brain cells to fry.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss 

On jazz, sushi, and glitter galore

OMGYOUGUYS. We are going to keep it snappy today because I have to leave in T-minus-30 minutes for JAZZ FESTIVAL FUN TIMES! This is the night that Tatsuhisa Yamamoto is playing at Cafe Oto and I am so excited I can barely contain myself. What on earth will I wear. WHAT ON EARTH.

And for our pre-show dinner - hold on to your seats! - we're going to try that New Hawaiian place in Dalston. I KNOW! HAWAIIAN FOOD AND THEN JAZZ. JAPANESE JAZZ. I think we all see where this is going.*

This is not where we are going.** This is Carnaby Street and their Christmas decorations, because OF COURSE headphones and sunglasses. Do you remember the year Carnaby did the Holiday Solar System? I want to shake the hands of their design team; they are just getting better and better.

I hope you have a wonderful Monday night! 

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

*Putting on my Murakami hat, prepping novel
**Although it does seem strangely fitting.

CARROTS, right?

"It smells like a wet snowsuit. It's that kind of weird musty . . . then it's like, 'Let me make that a part of me.'" - Leslie Goshko, on eating celery

Okay, so for some reason blogger won't embed this video (I had this problem with a Funny or Die clip last week - does anybody know what I could be doing wrong?) but youguys have to watch this hilarious 'Americans Try Vegetables for the First Time' video. It will make you race straight over to Whole Foods.

Also, if it's wrong to be falling asleep at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night, then I don't want to be right. I've got a book and a phone full of funny funny tumblrs, which are my two favourite ways to unwind in an evening. Between this and my tylenol p.m., I just don't know if it gets better.

I love youguys, I hope your weekend is going well!

Lots of hugs,
Essss

On Chester and a Whole Lot of Walls and Gates

The man who lets himself be bored is even more contemptible than the bore. - Samuel Butler

I once read this interview with Haruki Murakami in which he said that to write, one must be physically strong. Because there is a door one must open to go into the Other Room, the writing-headspace. And if you aren't physically strong enough to open this door, then you won't be able to do it. What a wacky and beautiful idea. That guy is nuts. 

Speaking of wacky and beautiful, my vegetable peeler is missing. I thought you guys should know that. I use it daily so I know exactly where it should be but now it's not there. Then I started looking in other places it may have gone - the bottom of the dishwasher, the dish towel drawer, the basket of potatoes - and it is SERIOUSLY nowhere to be found. It's not even in the microwave, which is where I once found a coffee mug hiding out. When a veg peeler does a runner, what chance do the rest of us have? 

In other news, CHESTER!

 This black-and-white architecture is famous and has some historical significance but I can't remember what it was and I'm too lazy to look it up so...um. Yeah. The shopping area is called The Rows and if you look closely, you can see that there's an upstairs sidewalk lined with shops in addition to the usual ground-level storefronts. Also, there are British men in tweed caps. They don't even cost extra.

This is the Eastgate Clock! Apparently it is the second-most photographed clock in the UK after Big Ben. WILDCHESTERFACTS. 

Now for the fun part: my walk along the City Wall! Youguys, I can't say enough about doing it in November. It's cold and wet and your nose will run and OH THE MISERY WILL MAKE YOU FEEL ALIVE. Also, alone:

So very, very alone.

WOLF GATE! So - here's some almost-proper history - this was originally called Wolf Gate but then in the middle of some bit it got changed to Peppergate, and during that time - and I mean ages ago - a girl used this gate to elope with 'a common draper' and her dad was so mad he made them start locking it at night which led to a local saying 'when the daughter is stolen, shut the Peppergate,' which is basically 'closing the stable door after the horse has fled', but I have to tell you, I didn't hear any locals using it. 

And now Peppergate is back to being called Wolf Gate again! Also part of this structure is called Newgate. So it has, like, three names. Awesome.

This is a photo of Hugh Lupus, or 'Hugh the Wolf,' their first emperor. His banner makes me laugh, because WHAT KIND OF WOLF IS THAT?! I'll bet he totally had a pet pit bull and was all, 'Who's going to call me on it? I'M THE EMPEROR.'

The Goblin Tower! Sort of. More like a tower built on TOP of Goblin Tower and called Pemberton's Parlour.

Okay, so I have occasionally been accused of showing life as a giant bowl of cherries viewed through rose-coloured glasses, and also mixing metaphors, leading to the impression that my life is full of travel and those travels are Perfect and Romantic and Thrilling and That Can All Be Misleading*. So let's show some Real Pictures for a minute:

This is what Pemberton's Parlour / the Goblin Tower actually looks like right now. 

I don't think the scaffolding has any historical merit, but I could be wrong. You know me and history.

Sometimes you look over the city wall and instead of seeing parks and canals and rivers, there is sexy sexy road.

And sexy sexy construction sites.

ALSO PROOF OF A POTTERY PLAGUE SWEEPING THE TOWN'S GARDENS.

But hey, look! A CATHEDRAL! A CATHEDRAL, YOUGUYS!

A Cathedral!

A Cathedral!

Town Hall!

Also, there's that moment you pass Town Hall and realise you are missing the Magical Tree Lighting Ceremony by ONE DAY.

You know when you're in a beautiful, enchanting city, maybe Florence, maybe Brooklyn, and there's a Market and you go to check it out and you're so glad you did because it's full of charming charmingness, with lovely local produce like tomatoes that look like flying saucers, or freshly-baked baguettes, or eighteen different kinds of cheeses and olives and honeys and jams and also maybe there's some handicrafts, like some beautiful silk scarves or cozy woolen throws or little clay pots and OH THE YEARNING TO SHOP HERE ALWAYS! 

And then you go to Chester's Town Market:

A cozy concrete warehouse where you can fulfill your heart's desire for wrapping paper, rabbit hutches, one-pound dvd's and yarn, all under one roof. There was even sign indicating a Toe Nail Clipping Service! I KNOW. I want this to be my local shop, too.

Though I have to admit the haberdashery was fantastic. I DARE YOU NOT TO FIND THE BUTTON YOU NEED HERE.

I saw a sign next to the River Dee warning of 'marauding Welshmen,' a possibility which initially terrified me until I saw that they're still training their children to be legionnaires. So we're fine.

This is the Commonhall St. Social which has been open exactly a week today and LOOK HOW PRECIOUS IT IS. Those cushions are made from coffee sacks they actually had their coffee delivered in. I nearly punched myself in the face.

This food was not enjoyed at the Commonhall, though their menu looked great. I  was directed to The Brewery Tap for proper moreish British food. And I was not disappointed: the white bean and rosemary soup and Welsh rarebit were perfect.

And it looks so appetizing!

That was about when I passed out from exhaustion and started the walk back to the train station. Chester threw out one last leaving gift on my way: 

Sunset on a canal, with birds. I KNOW.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

*It IS Perfect and Romantic and Thrilling, jerks.

Democratic societies are unfit for the publication of such thunderous revelations as I am in the habit of making. - Salvador Dali

OMGYOUGUYS. Gone Girl. Have you seen it? Even having read the book, WHOA. Rosamund Pike, the actress who played Amy, WAS SO SO SCARY. Brilliantly evil. I had to close my eyes during pretty much every scene she was in, even when it wasn't warranted, because DON'T LOOK AT ME, AMY. And then there was the rest of the movie, which was funny. So there you go.

I don't know why I'm not a professional movie reviewer. This is good stuff here.

Speaking of movie reviewers, I just read Attachments by Rainbow Rowell and it was just as cute and full of charming dialogue as everything else she writes, so that was a win.

I also don't know why I'm not a professional book critic.

HEY! I took a photo.

This is from Marrakech, nearly a year ago. Marrakech is way different from Lake Garda. 

Maybe I should consider being a travel writer.

Next on my reading list: Amy Poehler's memoir, and also that one that Jessica put on Facebook last night by the Indian guy that was on the Daily Show. 

On that note! Today's Nothing well and truly satisfied.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss