Ordering new bowls online. I'm pretty sure they didn't look like this on the website.
Watching The Great, 'an occasionally true story' about Catherine the Great. It's hilarious, very bawdy, with plenty of effing and blinding and, erm, vomit, and I love it. I'm a big fan of Nicholas Hoult and he's brilliant as Emperor Peter, huzzah! Also enjoying this and this and, of course, The Great Pottery Show Down (like Keith, I cry every week).
Eating everything in sight. I don't know whose appetite I've acquired but I wish it would return to it's owner. If I'm not eating, I'm thinking about eating. I'd like to say I truly savoured this unexpected gift of chocolates (and, if you haven't yet tried Paul A.Young's confections, go treat yourself) but, in all honesty, I couldn't shove them in my gob fast enough.
Anticipating the weekly supermarket delivery. It's become the highlight of my week. It seems I've developed quite the knack for ordering the wrong size/quantity (who knew sunflower oil was available in such teeny bottles or that coriander came in bouquet-sized bunches?) so we're never quite sure what we're going to end up with. Ooh, the excitement.
Telling porkies. The Boy was here when last week's order was due to arrive. 'Are you putting lipstick on for the Sainsburys driver?'. 'Don't be ridiculous, my lips are dry and the lipstick helps'. Okay, so I lied.
Walking during daylight hours. Unusually for me, I fancied venturing forth before nightfall and wandered beyond the immediate neighbourhood. Way beyond. So beyond I had to ask a passing walker for directions home.
Regretting walking so far as my poor broken feet protested loudly. For days. Actually, it's a week later and they're still protesting.
Casting off a sweater. Another homemade piece of clothing which I'm unlikely to wear.
Casting on another, no doubt also destined for the charity bag. At least all the knitting keeps my hands out of the biscuit tin. For a little while.
Celebrating the mister's birthday with a Boy-made cake. Sadly (or should that be fortunately?) not vegan. Incidentally, those pretzels on top were hand painted gold, silver and copper. Personally, I couldn't be arsed but to each their own.
Delighting in all the snow that's fallen our way. Mr. Boo enjoys all this cold white stuff as much as I do. The cats, on the other hand, refuse to set foot over the doorstep.
Loving how the garden table resembles a giant waffle.
Waffles.
Now, there's an idea.