Thursday, August 04, 2011

Beetroot, getting out and teenagers.

1. Blush pink beetroot came in the Abel and Cole box. I cook two of them -- they turn creamy white with bright white concentric rings. I slice the others -- they are like sweeties, ice white with candy pink rings. Magic.

2. At the end of the afternoon, once the sun is less harsh and the day's pages have been proofed, I take Alec to the swings.

3. Four teenagers are wedged into the baby swings. “There’s some actual babies coming,” says a girl in flawless make-up and on-trend florals.
“There’s no way I’m moving, even for actual babies,” says a boy with a pointy fringe. He waggles his lanky skinny jeans legs so that the swing ends up caught round his thighs. And then: “Actually, how did you get out?”

Done, moon and Irish fairy tales.

1. A meeting that is over by 9.30am. 2. A big full moon is stuck on next door's chimney pots. 3. By my bed is a large and comforting boo...