Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Off to sleep, crispy and foil.

1. As we roll the pushchair home, Alec grumbles himself off to sleep

2. I have fried the bacon too much. It's starting to char, and I have to hold the pan under the extractor fan to keep the smoke alarm happy -- but the crumbled pieces stay crispy in our scrambled eggs.

3. Scrumpling the foil from the cooking chocolate.

Tarry, rolling back and one last taste.

1. Much that I would like to sit and visit for longer packed in with red and crimson cushions and blankets, lit by a bright window and drink...