I am easy, easy to keep. Honey, you please me even in your sleep. But my arms want to carry. My heart wants to hold. Tell me your worries. I want to be told. Sit, and see…

“It says three times.” “All the way to the boil?” “Yeah, do I whisk it still? It’s bubbling, look” The pot stacked with molinillos sits by the window, where it always has, and…

Gnarled and pitted wood rests where it has fallen, shapes transformed by the tiny creeping filaments of the moss that covers everything, in this place so textured with age. It…

A box of technicolour macaroons from Choux Cafe in Swanbourne made the weekend a little bit brighter.

My posting here has slowed a little recently, as I re-purpose the blog to focus on longer pieces, with less of the “oh my god that’s awesome” things I’ve jumped…