Thursday, December 04, 2025

Consolation, Effra and icing.

1. I flee Tunbridge Wells and its water woes for a day of wandering London with my aunt. A bit of Turner, a bit of Constable and some miscellaneous pre-Raphaelites. Turner's gift to the nation truly does give me a break from the treadmill cares of carrying bottled water and kettles and permanently feeling slightly grubby.

2. We come past the Isle of Effra with its bronze loo sculptures, which we're told mark the nearby Royal Doulton ceramics works, but could just as well nod to the River Effra's time as a sewer.

3. There are concerns about the whiteness and the quantity of butter icing. I walk away and leave the pastry chef to her work. When I come back, things are much more cheerful.

Winter is passing, toad in the hole and mulled wine.

1. It is cold (although less chill than it has been) and cloudy (although less grey than it has been) and a robin sings loudly from the top ...