(no subject)

I have a feeling that it probably shouldn't take just under an hour to walk into town, say evening prayer, and walk back again, but it always seems to. It's quite easy to loose track of time when sitting being quiet by candlelight, at any rate.

It's been a curiously mixed sort of day; I would have got more done had I been able to drag myself out of bed sooner. I have tried on a number of dresses and bought none of them (largely, I suspect, because I am still in love with the Hobbs one). I did buy a wool v-neck sweater, which is delightfully warm yet light and compact and, I realised to my bemusement, bears a suspicious resemblance to the one in emily_shore's Mandelson icon. Oh well, I like it. I also painted a large papier mache giraffe and zebra, went to the library, and bought a book called 'Small Boat, Big Sea', by Peter Owen Jones, a diary of the first year in the job of a priest in charge of three Cambridgeshire parishes (he had some connection with the Che Guevera! Jesus poster; apparently the slogan was originally intended to be 'public enemy number one: discover the story this Easter', which I have to say would have been substantially better than what they went with, 'Meek. Mild. As If.', which is a bit adolescently shocking-for-the-sake-of-shocking, and only half true anyway.)

Now I am going to make toad in the hole, courtesy of the discussion on dolorous_ett's journal. I've learned how to make a lot of delicious things thanks to the flist - schreibergasse's Italian sausage and bean pot and dreamer_marie's chicory with ham and cheese stand out. lj can be marvellous!

Twitter-witter!

( Beware the ramblings! )