For the better part of four decades, I’ve put my thoughts in many different places. Some of these thoughts have thankfully disappeared into the ether and some of them are rotting away in digital graveyards like Facebook and twitter. As the internet becomes more of an inhospitable place, I’ve been keen to keep my thoughts all in one place, on a platform I have as much control over as possible. I’ll still probably share on instagram and I may fire off the odd post on bluesky, but I’m going to compile them all here, too. Not because I think they’re worthy of preservation, but just so I don’t feel so digitally schizophrenic, so I don’t accidentally lose my thoughts when an account closes or a new billionaire buys up a platform, so my thoughts won’t get buried by an algorithm because I didn’t share it with a 30 second clip of a song that I’ve never heard all the way through.
Sometimes these thoughts will be accompanied by photos. Sometimes they will be long and sometimes short. Often times they will be very stupid. I have tagged the thoughts using a system that makes sense to me and ultimately I am unconcerned as to whether or not it makes sense to you, but I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. For now, there is an option to comment on my thoughts, though I will not allow anything I deem annoying or unkind to remain published. It’s my party, I can do what I want.
on a weekend (in bath)
When did cars become such tasteful colours? What is behind the shift from highly-saturated paint options to these soft sage greens, dusty blues, cinnamon oranges and persimmon reds? The new white and grey cars almost shimmer like champagne. I would love a long-read article about this.
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David forgot his phone at home. He also didn’t bring his wallet because he never brings his wallet anywhere anymore. In the end, this proved to not be too big of a problem, thank goodness, but it brought into stark focus how impossible it is to get into your email, hotel booking apps, and car parking and charging accounts from a different device now that 2-factor is embedded into everything. When everything works, sure, technology can be great. But when something doesn’t work, it’s a real pain in the ass and I seriously consider going full analogue.
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Speaking of not working, why why why is the O2 mobile service in Bath nonexistent? What do you mean I’m in the centre of the city and can’t use my phone unless I’m on Wifi?? I’ve had cell service in the middle of South Dakota, so how is it possible that Bath, a city of roughly 95,000 people, is a dead zone for one of this country’s three (only three!) mobile service providers?!
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Okay great, now I’m obsessed with Ofcom’s mobile coverage checker map.
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Speaking of maps, Bath is one of those cities that really turns me around. We have just walked away from our hotel, zig-zagging down cute shopping streets, and wound up… back at the hotel. We have done a big loop. As someone who generally has a pretty good sense of direction, I feel like my internal orienteering arrow is spinning round-and-round in this town and I really have no idea where I might be unless I’m literally right next to the river.
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There are a lot more people having a big night out on the town than I would have thought. Isn’t Bath supposed to just be Jane Austen hen dos and bookish students arguing about Russian literature in pubs? Why did I just walk over sick and see a drunk man fall off a bench (yes, it was quite funny).
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Just remembered while filling my water bottle at the hotel that our old gym had sparkling water on tap and ugh, god, it’s so annoying how enticing that is.
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Restaurants & Bars that we went to and would go to again, Bath edition:
Solina for pasta and light-as-air tiramisu, but get yourself on the waitlist quick because they don’t do reservations.
The Dark Horse which is a real proper bar with a unique lived-in vibe. Someone told me that holding the claw of the wooden eagle that sits on the bar will bring good luck (tbd). Oh, and they have Fernet!
Brac has a great spot along the river in a quiet residential neighbourhood. Their focaccia was incred and it was the perfect plate-fellow for their eggs in purgatory, which I ate with gusto in a beam of beautiful crisp sunlight. Quite a few chic older people reading the Sunday papers with their coffee and lots of parents with young children. Real wholesome.
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We stopped in Swindon to charge our car on the way home and learned that the National Trust head office is right next to an enormous outlet mall. (Doesn’t feel right, that.) The building, Heelis, is a striking grey architechty kind of building, the type of building that is often next to something like a native wetland or a prairie, all very tasteful and important and sustainable. But instead of a wetland, Heelis is next to a glossy energy-hungry eye-sore that encourages over-consumption under the guise of getting a deal (one teen walking out behind us bragged to her friend that she “just bought EIGHT new perfumes, it was mad”). Now, because I’m in the car and bored I wanted to look up who was there first, and I was shocked to learn that the outlet mall (pre it’s 2015 refurb) pre-dates Heelis by almost ten years. Which begs the question: why did the National Trust, one of our most buildingest of building organisations, decide to build their “innovative and sustainable” HQ that they describe as “an architectural gem” right next to this (I’m sorry) monstrosity? I really want to know.
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Whilst I’m over here asking important questions: why is the EV car charging infrastructure in this country still so garbage??
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Bought a 3 litre Kilner fermenting jar from the horrible outlet mall while waiting on the car to charge. Now we can ferment kimchi and sauerkraut at the same time.
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Sometimes it’s nice to listening to a sporting event in the radio and remembering that your imagination is actually such a powerful thing. Like omg why am I crying with relief listening to the end of this rugby match??
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Going away for the weekend 👍👍👍
Coming home and none of your usual weekend chores are done 👎👎👎👎
meatballs for .99p
I had a very jolly evening in a wine bar with some friends last night (we had the best creamy and oh-so-goopy goat’s cheese!) so I needed a second breakfast at around 11:30. Doing the shopping hungry is always a bit of a risk, but today I lucked out; the new butcher shop in town sells meatballs for .99p. Though I don’t actually know the going rate for a single meatball, this feels like incredible value and I bought two on a whim whilst buying sausages for our supper. Across the street in the greengrocer, I lucked into finding some spaghetti squash, which is something that I always think you must buy when you see it as you never know when you’ll find it again. A plan largely driven by my stomach was beginning to form, and I also bought a bunch of basil and some beautiful cheery tomatoes.
When I got back home, I popped the meatballs and a handful of tomatoes onto a roasting tray and then into the oven. I chopped a stem full of basil leaves into ribbons and put them in a bowl with salt and pepper and a good glug of olive oil. As I waited for the oven to do its thing, I cut a piece of bread and put it in the toaster. Then I waited. Impatiently. Hungrily. When the tomatoes started to collapse I plucked them out of the oven with some tongs and then switched the oven onto grill, to give my balls a bit of crisp. I mixed the tomatoes into the basil and let their hot juice soak into the greens. Et voila, sauce. When the meatballs formed a nice brown crust on top, I placed them in the bowl with my sauce, grated some parmesan on top, and then buttered my toast, which I used primarily as an edible spoon. It was everything I hoped it to be.
David spent £3.59 at McDonald’s this morning on his slightly-hungover breakfast. Whilst I have no way of being 100% sure, at .99p/meatball, I think my little mid-morning indulgence came in cheaper than that, and I know for a fact that it was tastier and more delightful. Perhaps I should keep a dozen meatballs in the freezer for other mornings when the gnawing need for a second breakfast just won’t quit.