… I’m a messy cook. I say…I need a bigger kitchen.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
Edinburgh is a very small city yet I have twice seen the same yellow Fiat with fake car eyelashes around the head lamps. The driver is a young boy in full hoodie uniformity. The two visuals just don’t mix. Photo to follow if I see it again.
Car Lashes – I kid ye not
I’m not sure if you can call what I do with an Ali Smith book reading. Obviously I can’t speak for her, but I always leave our trysts feeling enormously inspired and overwhelmingly intimidated. Perhaps there is a word for that. Perhaps there ought to be a word for that.
I just read Hotel World which had special resonance for me as I was working the night a girl, a chef, a colleague, a friend died in a hotel dumb waiter. She was 19 and it took the fire brigade over six hours to cut her and the other chef who was with her out of the shaft. Like Sara, Karen had crouched down and crammed herself in for high jinks and laughs. I am not going to recite any obvious morals, but do read Ali Smith if you haven’t already.
Having enjoyed a comely salad of butter beans, walnuts, red onions, courgettes, sultanas and wheat free soy sauce, I was perturbed to turn around and find myself confronted with the particular (and possibly unprecedented) problem of a head on collision involving a suede bag, feta cheese and a stolen sachet of sugar from Starbucks. Having dealt with the situation admirably I was delighted to find Santa’s secret stash of Christmas sherry under my bed. Fortified wine to fortify my troubled nerves indeed; although I am now slightly squiffy.
Hic.
