Another week gone and we’re three months into 2025. I don’t want to think about it too much. Yes, I’ve been longing for later evenings and warmer days and more sunshine and putting my scarves to the very back of my drawers, but time slips away so fast. I am trying not to be existential (ha) and taking it all for whatever it is, as it comes, as I feel awe beneath the blossom trees and walk the long walk just to go past more magnolias. Spring is here. Hurrah.
This week I read Clean by Alia Trabucco Zeran (translated by Sophie Hughes). From her perspective, Estela tells the story of her life as a housemaid for a wealthy family. There are secrets, small acts of rebellion, and someone has died. I enjoyed that we were told everything by Estela, and some elements of the plot showed a disgusting disregard for Estela as a person, not merely just an employee. But I found it slow parts and expected to be gripped a bit more by the overarching plot line of someone dying. I started reading Openings by Lucy Caldwell, a collection of thirteen short stories. I loved Claire Keegan’s short story collection, Antarctica, and so far I’ve loved the diversity of the stories. Much food for thought for the fiction I am writing myself at the moment, too.
The Irish impact on pop culture
Booker Prize longlistees on books that made them fall in love with reading
- The more I heal, the less ambitious I become
The latest release of J.F.K. assassination files
Are young men doomed?
Supposedly, French people don’t floss
Mary Berry on her 90th birthday celebrations (I was mainly just there for the photos)
I am finally going to Bistro Freddie for dinner this week. It’s been a long time since I’ve ticked off a new restaurant from my list, and this has been high up for a long time. I love food, I love trying new things, and I love eating at restaurants. My tummy just did the biggest grumble as I write this.
Many of my blasts from the past centre on food items I miss that have been discontinued. Milky Way Crispy Rolls and the McDonald's Chicken Legend are my Roman Empire. I was watching RHOSLC and Meredith’s husband Seth is presented with a big tits cake for his birthday. Then I remembered that Tesco used to sell a boobs cake. I looked it up and it was actually a “busty” boobs cake. Nice to include descriptive adjectives, isn’t it? Soft, supple, tasty - I mean the cake. Busty is such an interesting choice. I’m guessing they wanted the alliteration. Maybe since the cake went off the shelves, the use of “busty” has dwindled across the nation as a consequence.
From what I saw online, it looked like a Victoria sponge cake on the inside (under the flesh of the bust). Exactly what you’d hope to find, I’d say. Predictable. Homely. Comforting. More of a bosom cake, really. God, what I would give for a nostalgic slice of busty boob Victoria sponge cake.
Last week, I had the best massage. I was kneaded like a giant slab of dough. Rolled out on the bed and left to prove. I even fell asleep at one point. I’ve never had a massage before where I’ve lain underneath a giant cosy duvet, or had a weighted eye mask cover my eyelids when turning onto my back. A good massage can feel truly life-changing.
Does art imitate life or does life imitate art? This is by no means ‘in the bin’, as something I dislike, it’s technically more like ‘on the bin’. I saw this bin in the street last week, and I thought the lid looked like a face. The brain works in mysterious ways.
We are officially in British Summer Time! We made it! Sunsets at 7:30pm and blue skies for the foreseeable. However, it’s April tomorrow, so perhaps showers will be on the horizon. I hope not.
April Rain Song by Langston Hughes
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.
