Amazing, thank you! Can I please go for Dragons Green and Impossible Creatures? And could you throw in a copy of Equal Rites too? Let me know the damage and I’ll PayPal you this afternoon.
Pizza van day! Ham, olives and red onions for me. Last of Sunday’s claret after I’ve put the kids to bed. Trying to resist the creme egg that’s taunting me from the kitchen cupboard I’ve hidden it in.
Amazing, thank you (and very impressed with your day off social media!)
@biggreenbooks.bsky.social morning! Looking for a birthday present for my soon-to-be 11 yo goddaughter. Big fan of fantasy and dragons, and as she’s American I’d love to give her something v British if possible. Any ideas??
Patriarchy chicken! TBF I have seen men walk into each other a couple of times, which is always hilarious; but, yeah, mostly a female thing.
Work and school will be in 16e and 17e so aiming for something around there. Had the choice between the suburbs or city centre and the latter won out.
Have only been a handful of times; can’t wait to get there! (Only the small matter of finding somewhere to live first - how hard can it be??)
It really is one of the greatest unforced errors I’ve ever seen in British politics - they have a huge majority and, from day one, have had a laser focus on squandering it though obsessing over people who will never vote for them, and spitting in the faces of those who might.
Not at all! I’m sure I’ll be bragging about it before too long: Paris!
Oh, definitely, will be a massive adventure. Really looking forward to it!
I have ALWAYS wanted to see it. We move to France for 12 months six weeks before it opens at the BM. To say I’m gutted is an understatement!
Ooh, sounds delicious. Haggis, neeps and tatties, as we didn’t do it last week. (Kids had sausages but I still lost a not inconsiderable amount of haggis to the two year old.) Gamay. Ardbeg for later.
Wednesdays are Tom the Pizza Man days - woe betide us if we missed it. Margarita with ham for the wee ones; something loaded with ham, olives, mushrooms and red onions for me. Husband on a health kick, so he’s got tom yum soup from Charlie the Fish Man (also a venerated Wednesday tradition). Beer.
I shared this with some friends who I thought would be easy converts. It rapidly descended into a conversation about what other kind of preserves would be acceptable offerings. And this is how schisms develop.
Himself is finalising roast short rib with the trimmings (forgot it was Burns Night, otherwise would’ve gone full HN&T). I’m drying out after bathing the toddlers with the last of the Montepulciano.
Intriguing. Just goes to show how hard the brain can work to convince itself “This is ok, actually. No, really it is.”
Or they think they’re Sarah Wynn Williams and can get a book out of it.
Do they even have any external comms/stakeholder engagement people any more? Thought they’d scrapped the comms teams a long time ago
Earlier this year I bought a camera trap so I could figure out where foxes were getting into the garden. 8yo son, sceptical of Father Christmas, has borrowed it for tonight.
So...obviously I've now bought a Santa outfit. Your move, boy.
Think I’m going to need something a lot stronger than that!
*waves* last media sell-in of the year. Crawling to the finish line.
It could just be the fact it’s been a VERY long year, but this is just the loveliest thing: www.npr.org/2014/12/19/3...
Twitter screenshot, 23 December 2016 (and god knows we needed a laugh at the end of that year): Gerry Adams, “This house is like Santa's Grotto. Takes half an hour 2 switch off fairy lights and assorted Yule illuminations. Feel like a grinch now.” Reply from ‘Eddielzzard'sBeret’: “Surely you know someone who can fit a timer.”
Well, happy anniversary to one of the finest of festive exchanges
Press office. Every time.
Obviously I’m annoyed that my cab home is taking ages (it’s a Wednesday! It’s half eleven! The streets should be empty!) but I am also annoyed that the pavements of central London are half empty (it’s the first week of Christmas party season: where is everyone?).
A large, shallow white bowl with a blue rim containing my dinner: monkfish with a stew of black eyed beans, red peppers and tomatoes, and salad.
I took a picture! Monkfish with black eyes beans, tomatoes, red peppers and chorizo; dusted with espelette pepper in a futile attempt to stop the toddler nicking half my fish. Salad. Albariño, cos it’s finally sodding Friday. Tiramisu once the kids were in bed.
The nearly two year old is obsessed with diggers and points them out at every opportunity. He often drops the ‘d’, which is fine. But when he says “igger igger igger” over and over, there’s a tendency for a ‘n’ to somehow appear. Which is, er, less fine.
Cracked even sooner than I expected. Have shoved an ice cube in the glass and it’s pretty drinkable. Who knew.
Macaroni cheese for the little ones. Steak and mushroom sandwiches for the bigger ones. Himself is having beer. I can’t yet bring myself to open the bottle of mediocre red the in-laws brought yesterday, but I’ll probably give in at some point.
Being on the petite side, I’ve found there’s normally enough extra fabric to accommodate - I have a great fit and flare dress from there that definitely wouldn’t work if I was a normal height!
