A very overdue 2nd lockdown and it's only now that I'm managing to look back and piece together some kind of narrative for this strange chapter of my life. I came back, learned to bake bread, picked up some work, inherited a slightly intimidating amount of plants, and I'm now remodelling our flat. In between, we had a clear out, moved bits of furniture around, I tried (in vain) to learn to sew, and we even managed to see a few places outside Manchester! It's not been a bad year at all.
The forced slowing down, the structured time away from others, reminds me of the time Courrier International (and latterly Delayed Gratification) takes to collate from stories around the world and instead of reporting every minute development regardless of significance, gives us pause, and time to analyse the bigger picture.
Shying away from cooking Chinese food because I worry it won't live up to my standards, but happily bastardising other culture's cuisines
Playing with new layouts, trying fizzy, half-chilled shiraz and watching Tumbadd to mark Deepavali: these are a few new discoveries!
What happens when you pour heartache into your baking? Does it taste deflated too? I guess I'll find out.
Update: as long as the heartache intensity has faded by the time you try it, the baked goods are just as tasty as the skills and ingredients you've put in, which is another comforting reminder that the pain doesn't permeate.