It’s often said that writers are of an arbitrary nature, that as a species their opinion of themselves waffles between enormous ego and debilitating self-doubt. It’s something I heard a long time ago, before I understood what writers actually spend most of their time doing; I thought writing meant seclusion and contemplation, presumably sitting byContinue reading “Arbitration; Or, the Nature of Subjective Accomplishment”
The first also honey post I published, almost a year ago today, was a list of all the new years resolutions that I never actually achieved – and in some cases never even attempted.
Which makes it sound like I disappeared for a month and have returned as the personification of kitschy consumerism.
Hello and welcome to another episode of “things I would like to read but just end up writing about.”
There are three parts to a crumbed coffee cake: the vanilla cake, the cinnamon filling, and the cinnamon topping.
I can admit to always having the slightest of obsessions with chocolate mousse.
I’ve been wanting to do a post on this for a while, because I love nothing more than a good book cover, and nothing more than that than the whackiest, wildest, most unnecessarily upsetting book cover you’ve ever seen.
They really are pink.
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu is one of my favourite historical figures.