Last Saturday was one of these (probably last this year) glorious days in New York City. End of October, painted with warm autumn colours, high temperatures of 22 C, sunny. Blissful.
What do you do when you are upset? Cry? Scream? Drink? Write? Well, I bake. In all honesty my first choice would be a long drive to nowhere. Nothing like a solo drive to clear your mind, right? However, in US I do not own a luxury of a car, so I bake.
“Big little lies” Liane Moriarty book, “Big little lies” HBO series. I read and watched it synonymously. Perhaps something one should never do. However it worked out perfectly, if not in my favour.
Organic was never my thing. It was out there, with a big name, that meant everything and nothing at the same time. What does “Organic” mean to an average customer? What did it mean to me?
Moving. Moving is a chore. Moving 3,408 miles is a whole other level of chore. I had a month to close up my life in Oxford to get ready for a big move to NYC. I should be excited, right? Well … I was. I mean, I was stressed, and excited, and worried but in …