keeping my head above the compost heap
Unhusband is Italian. Not just Italian, but Bolognese, which is apparently the cuisine capital of Italy (or so he claims.) So it’s a bit of a shame, not to mention a slight sticking point in our relationship, that I don’t really like pasta. Which is kind of like going to The Vatican and saying you don’t like the … [Read more...]
The temperature is (occasionally) nudging double figures. The snowman has melted. The first daffodils are out. It can mean only one thing. ‘Let’s have a barbecue,’ says Unhusband. There is no point saying no. There is no point telling him everyone else is still inside with the central heating on. That this is … [Read more...]
