These were the good things

1. I made a chocolate souffle for Rowan and Eilidh, neither of whom had ever had one -- or indeed, apparently, anything so delicious -- before. In short, it was a hit. The middle was a bit raw because I used a 12" casserole dish rather than six individual ramekins, but nobody seemed to mind. Karolina said she even preferred that part, which was apparently similar to some sort of Polish Christmas eggnog-adjacent delight.
I need to get my ramekins from my parents basement.
We'd originally intended to do a souffle of some kind when we had our chicken petsit, but it turned out the people did not own any kind of electric beating device and I have to draw the line somewhere. Have you ever attempted stiff peaks by hand?

2. Vampires vs. the Bronx. Not one of the world's cinematic masterpieces -- I called (what can generously be described as) the twist early on. I even called the baseball bat. But still. Sometimes you just want to watch scrappy kids doin' the right thing and learning a bit of lore along the way.

3. Georgette Heyer. I've read two? three? of her romances so far and thoroughly enjoyed them. But of course it was always going to be the detective ones that really got me. Started the first one (well, actually book 2, as 1 wasn't available) yesterday. In my hammock, in the dappled sun, on a glorious day while Rowan was at the adventure playground. And then got an email from FuckingAmazon saying that as of May 20th they would no longer be supporting my Kindle, which meant I wouldn't be able to get any more library books on it... So I immediately began loading it up. Thank you, Brooklyn Public Library, for your 20 loans at once. And wtf, NYPL, for your 3. But anyway I plan to max them both out multiple times:

• - Borrow the books from the library.
• - Turn off airplane mode on the kindle and download them.
• - Turn airplane mode back on.
• - Return all the books and borrow more.
• - Repeat.
• - Repeat.

That should last me a while. At least until the Kindle does actually die, which I don't think is all that far off. Already I can't navigate forwards with the right-hand button; it jumps 3 pages instead of 1.
So far I've got another 15 Heyer books lined up. All the mysteries (except, still, the first one) and a smattering more romances. Hit me with your best recs now!

4. Music. Music is good, you know? I like walking without it, and I like podcasts and audiobooks, but... I sort of forgot about music. I mean, I listen at home when I can -- ie when Rowan isn't using the iPad, so pretty much for 20 minutes at dinner -- but I haven't done it while out and about in ages. I started getting back into it a little bit when I made my Life playlist, but then it took a while to listen to all that and it didn't occur to me to just... listen to some random albums too.
Turns out I don't need more quiet, necessarily. I just need less noise.
Further sound thoughts from one of the podcast greats.

Recipe: Aforementioned chocolate souffle(s).

In the coffeeshop

28 Aug 2025
A dad explaining to his 9?yo daughter about someone who’s an expert in Han Dynasty pottery. Trying to get her interested in being an entrepreneur. He asks what she likes and she says “horses, dogs…” He’s trying to spin that into money-making ideas now. Selling programs from the Grand National. Become an expert –- “It’s all about knowledge” -- buy low sell high. She’s not really getting it, and good for her. He finishes his speech and she says “Can I get a dog?” The answer of course is No. “You’re at school all the time.”

31 Aug 2025
Is there anything more English than calling a baguette a “French stick”?

23 Oct 2025
“I don’t like the sound of my voice. I sound like a homosexual twat. …Maybe I am a homosexual twat.”

13 Nov 2025
Watching small children almost but not quite defeated by the door jamb. Clinging on to the side to navigate their way through, they triumph.

18 Dec 2025
Am I the cow milk backlash? Defensive, but not too defensive. I can explain; I have to explain. All our choices must be explained these days. Everyone is finding their balance point.
I drink cow milk, yes, because anything else in coffee just isn’t good, you know, and I need this one small good thing in my life –- to brighten the dark mornings, to reassure me that whatever else humanity gets up to, at least we figured out lattes –- but come on, I bike and take public transport and live in a tiny apartment, and I know I take planes sometimes but at some point you have to live a life you enjoy, and there’s an obligation, isn’t there, for parents,to not let their kids grow up insular, but it’s all a balance isn’t it, and if I could take a ship everywhere I would, or if trains were cheaper and I had the time, but what does the world expect, after all? That one guy in the woods in The Good Place, barely scraping a pass while the rest of the world burns. Just this one little thing, okay? Cow milk in my coffee.

29 Jan 2026
“Wow, it’s busy in here. Like a yoga class just let out. Is it ladies day?”
Wow, fuck you dude.

If chased by cattle

Dislike: The word “muppet” as a pejorative. Also the word “silly,” same. (The latter most often used in an effort to not say “stupid” – like subbing “sugar” for “shit.” All well and good you don't want to call a kid stupid -- it's not the 80s anymore -- but let's not make silly a bad thing. It's a bad thing if a 3-year-old isn't silly.)

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Okay. You’re walking down the sidewalk. Not an enormous one, not a super narrow one; a normal sidewalk with space enough for two people to walk together, or pass each other in opposite directions. In New York – and as far as I can remember, in every other city I’ve ever been in – people will do just that: pass each other. There is no beat, there is no acknowledgement, there are simply two people moving independently through the world with no earthly need to acknowledge each other’s existence.

In London, the world’s most passive aggressive city, this is not the case. At least that’s how I’ve been reading the situation. Inevitably, one of the approaching people will pull over to let the other pass. At which point they expect an acknowledgment of their great largesse. Which I refuse to give, because why on Earth should I reward someone for doing something entirely unnecessary for no reason aside from receiving said acknowledgement.

But now I have a theory. It is not (merely) a case of performative politeness; it is learned behaviour based on driving. Because driving in this country is absolutely bonkers. (Have a look on YouTube for some variation of “Americans react to insane British roads!” for further illustration.) Here’s the deal: Lots and lots of roads, even in London, and certainly outside it, are too narrow for two cars to pass each other at speed. Baked into the system then is the requirement that two cars, approaching each other at 60mph, will somehow be able to slow down in time for one to pull into the side of a hedge (or in London, the gap in parallel-parked cars). There is no margin for error, and playing chicken is not an option. Whoever has the nearest two feet of shoulder must pull into it. At which point a little wave is given, the other person edges by, then they both gun it and go about their business. I do not know how everyone does not crash all the time.

So. This is standard practice, and absolutely essential to moving through British roadspace. Even if you don’t drive and never leave London, inevitably you will encounter this on any given bus route. It sinks in: Two bodies moving toward each other cannot simply move past each other; one must give way.

Still drives me up the fucking wall though.

-------

It’s inevitable: Every time we set foot in the English countryside, I’m reminded of Bill Bryson talking about the dangers of cows. Because they are dangerous, apparently; they will attack. Bill learned this at some point after moving here, and understandably felt the need to spread the word. And the English people he told said Well yes, of course, you’d better watch out if you’re in a field with cows. And the Americans said Why on earth would I be in a field with cows?

Why would I be in a field with cows. I never was, in America. I can’t imagine a scenario where I would be. Cows are… elsewhere. Somewhere in Iowa there’s a fratboy sneaking out at midnight to tip them. But Bryson is from Iowa, so maybe it’s actually Ohio. Or Indiana, or Wisconsin, who knows. America just has so much space I guess the cows and the people all have enough of their own.

There was a sign at the edge of the field: Stay safe – use a lead around livestock. But release your dog if chased by cattle. Why would I be in a field with cows indeed.

(I have of course continued Bryson’s experiment, and so far the Americans remain confused. I usually get some variation on Well, a bull…

Which reminds me of the rodeo Richard and I went to. In Madison Square Garden, unpredictably. Two things: 1. Whoever came up with the term Mutton Busting is a genius; 2. being a rodeo clown is a damn serious business. The guy trying to stay on the bull? He just has to hang on. The guy who has to get the attention of the bull after the other guy inevitably falls off, and lure it away to potentially trample him instead? Balls of steel.)

Recipe: Last Thanksgiving was a bit of a mess -- we got stood up by Richard's sister -- but on the plus side we didn't have to share these Garlicky Hasselback Sweet Potatoes, which were one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten.