Archives for posts with tag: cafe

Getting lots of shit done today. Lots of shopping for little bits. Itch relief cream, tissue paper, envelopes, elastic, clay. It feels very successful.

Having lunch in a cafe again. And eating a shit ton of veg followed by a great hot chocolate.

The ridiculous Christmas setup I found at one house today. There was even a big manger scene on the side of the house, along with a snowscape in the shed.

Chatting to Jo in a cafe, like normal.

Hoovering the living room.


Bright purple flowers.

Pea and mint soup in a nice cafe, reading, sat in the faint sunlight.

Moisturising my poor itchy vulva. Although it does feel nice to moisturise.

A bloody brilliant dog photo.

This hilarious article about asking the irish parliament their views on Beyonce.

Being outside in the sunshine and blue skies, delicious coffees and kiwi cafes. What a perfect day.

P.s. and an unexpected but fun WhatsApp phone call about British reservedness

Getting the spreadsheets. After freaking out about them.

Being in a nice cafe. Middle class calm.

Cheese on toast and Bake Off in bed. A happy place.

A soya mocha. Wanky and delicious. And exactly what I wanted.

A big curry with everyone. And Ciaran. He makes me laugh.

A text from dad, asking me to dinner.


The amazing brunch. Three courses in a perfect, perfect place. Even the toilets were great.
Ciaran: ‘From the inside’
Looking out over all of Porto, the beautiful terracotta roofs and colourful buildings.


Baked porridge for breakfast from Clear Water Peak.
Being back with the housemates and telling Steve his girlfriend is so loud during sex.
‘Gandalf, is this a safe place to stand?’


Seeing photos of Richard.
Reading the newspaper in a new cafe whilst eating halloumi.
Tea puns.


Having lunch in a great little cafe with a huge garden out the back filled with plants and birds and sun and reggae music.
The lovely, helpful guy from the alcohol shop who helped us pick out a good local gin for my parents when they arrive.
The Welsh pub! Went for after work drinks and stayed for ages. It felt like a real pub. Sticky floors, drunk chatty landlord and full of Welsh people!


The Death by Chocolate I had in the near by cafe. It was so chocolatey. Obviously.

Reading the papers over a cup of tea, in a new cafe, with my boyfriend, when I was supposed to be working.

Having him wash my hair in the bath


This nice sign by a cafe near my office.

Listening to ‘I’d go anywhere’ from Oliver. A lot.

The checkout lady singing the Moonpig advert song to me.

The gorgeous red, orange, gold and yellow plant growing over the fence.


Discovering a new local cafe with delicious poached eggs and hot chocolate.

The party. The dancing, the chatting, the drinking, the hugs, the laughing.