Skulduggery and the teapot

It's finally spring! Kind of. Well, down in Cheshire it's at least pretty sunny, even if it is pretty damn cold. I'm spending a month at home at the minute, which means fresh flowers in the kitchen, lots of baby-talk with the dogs, and most of our evenings spent watching vaguely obscene Channel 4 documentaries together (my mother loves them, and my dad pretends he doesn't).

All of our lights in the house recently stopped working, which although it does lead to weirdly romantic solo candle-lit showers, does also mean that I had to go to the toilet in pitch black. In a onesie (why am I always in onesies?). Imagine the vulnerability of having to be completely naked - the one flaw of onesies - and times that by the scariness of being in a dark room. By yourself. It's a wonder I survived to write this blog post, dear readers.

High point of my week: arriving home to find a surprise gift of a head in a box (disclaimer: not an actual head) from my lovely new beau. I've named him Victor. The head, that is, not the beau (he's called Richard).

Low (moral) point of my week: getting fed up with the builders' CONSTANT requests for cups of tea and coffee, and lowering myself to the point of deliberately making very weak tea and very strong coffee. Pretty soon I'm going to stop using the nice coffee. And switch up the spoonfuls of sugar.

Hi Victor!
Chairlift - Bruises Little Green Cars - Harper Lee Ms Mr - Fantasy Ivan & Alyosha - Running For Cover Keaton Henson - Beekeeper

Also a big thank-you to all my new followers who've helped push me up to #3 in Film, Music & Books worldwide on Bloglovin'. Is that a humble brag? It's not even that humble. Sorry guys - I'm just BUZZED.