The conservatory and spare room are piled with Rachel’s boxes and bags: split-new cooking utensils, tea towels, pristine winter boots, Italian coffee maker, erm, Sriracha sauce. By next weekend these bags – that are really quite annoying me – will be emptied into a new home, a new chapter of life. And I will be a …
I’ve just realised that I haven’t posted anything to tempt the sweet of tooth lately. Not a morsel. By now I really should be posting something in honour of poor, executed St Valentine. A saint with only the most tenuous links to pleasure, romantic love, and chocolate. So tenuous as to be non-existent, an invention …