Angelic Eye for the Gendered-Species Individual | |||||||||||||||||||||
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    Housecleaning: ++ Internet connectivity, lack thereof: --- Consolatory value of rereading Patrick O'Brian: ++ Persistent bad dreams: -- Watching hopefully soothing bad movie that turns out to be rubbish: - Good company: +++ Brain continuing to spin off ideas for stories other than the ones I am supposed to be working on: + but exasperating. Booktrawl: ++ Pork pies : + (would be more but the pork pie shop had fewer than anticipated.) Not having labyrinthitis any more: +++ Comments
You have a pork pie shop? Damn! *pines for Montreal again* I am resigned to making my own. Resigned, I say. Raised pies are tricky, for they fall over, but even so. It is one in the long, long list of Skills I Need To Acquire. I can do the raised pie bit, it's the list of weird ingredients that defeats me -- a pig's foot I can get in Chinatown, but... They are not exclusively a pork pie shop. Some people probably call them their marmite shop, or their treacle shop, or even their chocolate hob nob shop. They are called Bramble House, they're in a suburb called Valois, and they sell British stuff. It's horribly embarrassing and full of union jack t-shirts and tartan tea towels and the first time we went in there we were cringing until we suddenly found the freezer full of pork pies and we were suddenly very excited.
Yay on the + items, boo on the - and gentle snuggles on the bad dreams *snuggles* |
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