Youngsters will raise an eyebrow at me here, but you wait and see: there'll come a day when having a quiet rummage through your fabric swatches is as satisfying as the first breath of fresh air when you leave a nightclub at 3 in the morning, or hopping on the next plane to wherever the next plane happens to be going. By then you'll have determined whether Johnny is The One and also sorted out global oppression and it'll be time to take a lively interest in heaps of beautifully folded white bedlinen, while still of course being fabulous.
It's good to be back home in Jellystone Park for a while after a spell of apartment living. You try to potter in a rental apartment and there's no point having a happy ponder about what shade to paint the cupboards as they're not your cupboards and they are the wrong sort of cupboard anyhow. And the light thinking is defeated by the TV in the kitchen that makes Pink and Blue Daughters giddy and and drives me to campari & soda with a delicate twist of lime and a futile cocktail umbrella. No wonder the modern world has a headache and needs calming balms and pricey carrot elixirs.
And I have a pottering type of problem, viz: I've rather taken to Glenilen Farm's Raspberry Pannacotta, but I no longer buy them because of my stockpile of the little glass ramekins in which they are sold. I can't throw the ramekins away as that sort of wanton behaviour just isn't in me, nor can I think of anything to do with them beyond boring old candle-holders or baking individual things that would involve Effort. Can you suggest anything that wouldn't make young people laugh cruelly at me?