Is there anything better than someone making a comeback?

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And I think I finally, finally figured out how to put .gifs in my posts

Or not.

Or yes! (10 revisions later)

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I’m off! (and I have been for a little while)

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I’m in Europe! Exams over, and I shipped out. Hopped a plane, train, and busses, so far to Paris, Dublin and now in Galway.

Before I left, I threw a huge dinner party in a Potluck style. Its the best way to feed a crowd, and the way I did it was I made a delicious root vegetable pie and everyone else brought dessert. I felt like Marie Antoinette.

The pie is the best thing I can make in winter – and you can change the original recipe to suit whatever veggies you have. I love throwing broccoli in at the end and I usually can’t find celeriac at my local shops. The biscuits can also be made separately and serve it stew-style. Read the rest of this entry »

Hell-mester over. And yes, I have a favourite butter.

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I have finally finished exams. Last night I read 500pages/750page textbook.

It feels a little like this.

And a lot like this.

But mostly, I just fell asleep where I’m sitting.

How does one celebrate such a fantastic ending? With not a bang, but an uncomfortably full stomach. Like, lamb burger with olives, tzatziki and chilli fries, followed by a dinner of crisp-skinned seared duck with an orange and green peppercorn sauce (courtesy of the ever patient ginger pagan- my boyfriend) followed by a gloriously excessive sweet gnocci with cinnamon, lindt chocolate, custard and caster sugar. (All accompanied by wine, baguette and brie)Image

But real proof that he’s golden? The comment, ‘I even got you your favourite butter [because I know how much you hate margarine]’. Yes, I have a favourite butter. Its Lurpac. I defy anyone not to want to eat that smothered on bread like cheese. Delicious danish excessive calories. Yum yum yum.

With love, from Charlotte

I support Nigella Lawson.

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Today, while procrasti-checking Facebook, I saw that photos have been circulating the internet about how Nigella’s husband Charles Saatchi, has physically attacked her, specifically choking her in a restaurant. She has moved out of her home with her son. This is the article I read (unfortunately from a publication that also interviewed the Lonely Island today, but only gossip mags/tabloids are reporting on this so its as good a source as any)

And while the incident is nothing short of horrible, and while I am sending mental support and twinings tea to Nigella, I am more disgusted by some of the other responses around what she ‘should’ and ‘should not’ be doing at the moment. Apparently, as a victim of domestic violence, her primary response should be to respond to her fans, never mind taking care of herself and her children.

To the blogger who stated, ‘Nigella, like it or not, you’re a beacon for women from all walks of life. If you want us to buy your books and watch your shows on how to run our kitchens, then we need you to make a stand on domestic violence.’* – I think that is a shameful approach. Instead of trying to force her into the public arena, isn’t it more important that she is safe and feels protected? Lets not jump to threatening her career because she isn’t handling her attack in the way we feel is ‘correct’.  Just because we feel we know her as a celebrity, does not mean that we have the right to tell her how to respond to an abusive situation, or judge her prioritising the care for herself and family instead of issuing a public response as any sort of apathy.

Nigella, as an inspirational woman, but also as a human being: I hope that there is nothing but love and support for you at the moment, and that this specific criticism gets drowned out by the many many people who are wishing you nothing but peace and happiness.

And if anyone has hurt you, know that there are a lot of people who would love to slip some arsenic into their tea.

*(also, when her fans slammed this journalist and her threats, in her apologies she compared the ‘abusive comments’ she received to the actual abuse Nigella suffered. Shame on her, and shame on whomever still allows her a platform to air these views)

With love, from Charlotte

This is where we’re at, in .gifs

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So, I can’t function enough to write at the mo, so this is how I’m feeling, in internet memes.

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This morning I fried up cabbage and carrots (boyfs housemate ate ALL OF MY PAD THAI) and ate it. in a bowl. with my tears, macbook, and stupid lectures playing.

Send me strength.

With love, from Charlotte

On studying

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Another brilliant post on Friends Say the Darndest Filth… unfortunately, its again about me. BRB – pulling out hair and frantically cramming information into my brain and eating nothing but chocolate and diet coke.

With love, from Charlotte

Friends Say The Darndest Filth

I NEED SOMETHING STRONGER THAN TEA RIGHT NOW TO GET ME THROUGH. BRING ME ROCKET FUEL, IRISH COURAGE,

COUGAR SPERM.

THIS TEA IS NOT DOING IT

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For the love of beautiful friends.

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Today, a gorgeous friend of mine came over with beautiful artisinal salt and a whole hunka backstrap for me. For congrats and condolences, I have a wonderful friend who’s constantly offering the food-support. After an afternoon of Lonsdale Street Roasters Waffles a la Leslie Knope and buying of wool (I love this bi-yearly fad, makes me feel more like Jack’s description of Liz from episode 1: “New York third-wave feminist, college-educated, single-and-pretending-to-be-happy-about-it, overscheduled, undersexed, you buy any magazine that says ‘healthy body image’ on the cover and every two years you take up knitting for…a week.” Pete said the “knitting” part, in particular, was uncanny.”)

I then come home to my other gorgeous friend making my moussaka. Posting about it. And tagging both me and the bloggo. Chuffed, is all I can say. My beautiful friend.

He’s also not the first to make my food – two others have made the Yoghurt chicken and have raved and ranted loudly. Such a beautiful greek-chorus of food love. I can’t get enough.

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All I can say is I’m damn grateful, even if I’m about to claw my brains out with exam driven ragestress.

With love, from Charlotte