For a few hours this week, the house was immaculate. An exceedingly rare treat. I'd asked my husband to evacuate with all the children at 7.30 am, so that I could get it sorted in time for a photo shoot. I dream of living in a minimalist, tidy dream house. The reality is that we live in chaos most of the time, and it's a constant battle to tidy up after the demolishing toddlers. Anyway, the photographer and stylist could not have been nicer, and I loved the photographs taken by Emma Lewis. Clearly a genius.
I was first to make it to the market on Thursday, and so able to buy the very last of the raspberries grown on the local organic farm, Kensons,up the road. I love Thursday morning trips to the market, and we are very spoilt having such incredible choice all around us. Long Crichel Bakery is another stall that I love stopping at and getting a 5 seeded loaf. I could probably live off bread and butter , of all types and varieties. My grandmother had a cook called Dolly who did. She just ate white bread and butter, and drank tea with a lot of sugar. She shuffled around in her slippers, and apart from having false teeth, looked wonderful with thick glasses and whiskers. She couldn't read or write, but could cook like an angel. I adored her.
Last week was mainly about gearing up for Sunday, and the article about the book in The Sunday Mail's YOU magazine. That was very exciting and I was so grateful to Sarah Stacey for such a lovely piece. When she came to meet me for the article, I had not had time to prime the boys. As a result, Lorcan ( my 10 year old) thought it would be funny to tell her about the time I poisoned his Dad. I hasten to add this was 11 years ago, but still the story made me feel very uncomfortable when it was in front of a journalist. It was like a painful slow car crash, watching him answer questions about my cooking. I'm still waiting for the day when they say that they prefer my food to schools. I'm never quite sure if they are joking or not. Best not to I think.