Keith has taken both the little kids off shopping for hardware, so I'm just home from the most leisurely, pleasing wander around the shops. Not a real shop, just a hunt for offbeat items like coconut oil and sketch pads and baby bottles. The kind of slow, thoughtful larking about that is very hard to do when a small baby keeps fighting to stand up in the trolley baby-seat and shout 'Ta-da!'
I've been chatting to checkout chicks and shopkeepers, jumping in and out of the car without wrestling with straps and small people, just living the glorious life of the flaneur. Now I'm home, in the quiet, about to tackle the washing up and listen to the Slate Culture Gabfest.
I'm into my second week of quitting sugar (and gripped with sinus detox issues) so I hunted down some raw cacao nibs, which the Internetz say are the bomb. The packet cost me twelve thousand dollars and I ripped it open with unseemly haste. They are bitter! Bitter! I honestly thought they were going to be some yummy get-out clause.
I shake my fist at you, bitter raw cacao nibs.