Scotch has never really been my cup of tea. It doesn’t exactly come naturally, being Irish. When I do pick up a bottle of whiskey, which generally only happens when the weather turns and there’s a threat of flu on the horizon, it’s always Jameson. And even then, it’s hot, with ginger or not at all.
It is a sunny, blue sky Saturday morning and the living room window is open out so wide that from where I sit on our giant sofa, I have a bird’s eye view of passers-by three floors below, reflected on glass which is mottled now after weeks without a decent rain shower to clean it. It feels like the first Saturday morning in forever that I have had the time and luxury of sitting down with a pot of tea and an avocado something, Saturday Morning Kitchen in the background.
When it came to choosing a poem for the month of May I wondered if I should seek out something Portuguese to compliment the ramble to Lisbon, and I did spend quite some time pondering over a bilingual collection of poetry in Ler Devagar, an utterly wonderful bookshop to be found in Lisbon’s LX Factory.
When you wake up to sunshine and a cloudless sky on a sleepy Sunday morning the only thing to do is to take off for a ramble on the beach.
Last week began with a bit of a false start, still sicky and sofa-bound with all the glamour of antibiotics and regular steaming sessions. By Thursday I was actually thrilled to be back on my feet and back to work, but those extra few days not leaving work in the dark or standing at bus stops in the rain did soften my already rather fluffy spot for the dreaded month of January. Continue reading “Five Things: In defence of January”
Kicking off the new year with a new weekly incentive to put metaphorical pen to paper and what better place to start than with those New Years Resolutions…