Archives for posts with tag: podcast


A lunch time walk with the WEN women. That was a really nice connection.

Walking down a beautiful new street. Saw a huge wooden bird in a window.

New No Such Thing As A Fish podcasts on the bus. Really made me laugh.

Advertisements


Walking down to Angel, through the autumn-y park. Autumn is so damn beautiful.

A day of doing my own thing. Mainly charity shop shopping. And walking. And thinking. And listening to Body of Human, discovered thanks to a woman on OKCupid. Sofie Hagen and Josie Long. What a lovely, positive treat.

Texting Jen in the evening. She’s a funny one. I like hearing about the office.


A sad day but reminiscing about funny Nan stories.

No Such Thing As A Fish on the train home. It was just such a funny episode. Shoelaces, brown diamonds and international listeners.

Watching Bake Off in the lounge with Bivan. Rather than sitting alone in my room all night. That was a blessing in disguise.


Missing the train so popping into the reptile shop.

Listening to No Such Thing As A Fish without falling asleep. 

Durak. Ayeak. Airag. 

I got my necklace fixed. Finally. My beautiful necklace that I wear everyday.

Nan’s pressed flowers. They worked and they look beautiful. They’re up in my room now.

I loled a few times today at No Such Thing As A Fish. And I listened to a new one.

**UPDATE** My cousin is here for the night. And she makes me lol. “UPDATE. I only went for two sanitary towels”

Listening to the Baz Lurman Sunscreen song with a cup of tea, looking out the window and feeling pretty okay. 
Listening to My Dad Wrote A Porno, the Christmas special. 

Watching Sex and the City. 

Missing testicles on No Such Thing As A Fish. Giggling all over the train.
Face oil. 

Fish pie.


A raspberry pastas de natas.

A mum hug

There’s no such thing as a fish podcasts


Going to the Tate. Watching the construction guys descend from the roof. The beautiful new galleries. Stepping into the cubes. Being alone in the room with the lights. Writing with a coffee. The views from the top floor. The wonky sculptures. The bubbling tubes. Lying in the cage. The beautiful concrete staircases.

Drawing birds and listening to guilty feminists.

Jonny, beers in the pub, a brilliant tart, jam tarts that burnt our mouths, cigarettes, GBBO in bed and gay chat. A brilliant Wednesday night. 


Lunch in the park with Claire

Love oranges. And the one that looked like a snail.

More My Dad Wrote A Porno