Mmmmm, coffee

I have a new coffee machine. It is spectacular, beautiful, and perfectly formed. It also makes incredibly good coffee. There is one small downside (well, two actually). Firstly, I have the shakes from drinking so much of the stuff. And, yes I know that I could drink decaff, and I HAVE BEEN, but I'm telling you now, without reservation, it makes. no. difference. It all gives me the shakes. Decaff is a conspiracy.

Oh, and secondly, I have lost a big old chunk of my social life. I can't go out for coffee with the other mums from school. I just can't bring myself to pay overinflated coffee shop prices for a drink that is crap in comparison to what I could make at home. OK, so I could get a peppermint tea or something, but then really, what's the point? In the days B.N. (before nespresso) I could quite happily sit in a cafe for hours, wittering away with my friends, (or at least until Golden Boy had thrown himself to the floor in desparation). Now I try to persuade them to come to my house. I don't even care about the extra washing up.

And, to make matters worse, I'm not even remotely concerned that there is no photo in this post. I might start getting worried about myself soon.

The heady scent of (temporary) freedom

Today I had a chance to get into town by myself for a few hours. I took it and ran. Off to Marylebone High Street, with a wander around here, here, and here; and a lovely breakfast of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon here. I did mean to take a photo before I had eaten it, but somehow my appetite got the better of me.


And who could fail to have their spirits lifted when eating next to a rooftop garden complete with daffodil-munching cow?

Perfect.

The promise of snow

I don't think that I can take my childrens' squealing excitement for much longer. The snow has been moving south down the country for the last 24 hours, getting closer and closer. The "when will it snow?" question has been getting more and more insistent.

I'm not ready to disappoint them with the knowledge that snow rarely comes to London. They are too young to have really noticed this for themselves, and televisiual representations of England in winter are all about the snow. And robins of course, always the robins. I might as well tell them that the tooth fairy doesn't really exist; it would shake them to the core.



I guess leaden skies and cold winds don't make such pretty images, although they are much more attractive when rendered in felt (if I ever get it finished).