Cheers to the year that was … part 2
I felt like I was in the Barossa Valley, whipping up quince jelly, quince paste and rosemary and quince jam. Turns out, all you have to do is add a hell of a lot of sugar to them and boil the crap out of them.
Jan 27
I felt like I was in the Barossa Valley, whipping up quince jelly, quince paste and rosemary and quince jam. Turns out, all you have to do is add a hell of a lot of sugar to them and boil the crap out of them.
Turns out, the younger two had the same resolve as their mum, that 9 million others should learn our language, instead of us having to learn theirs.
Oh and with a slight diversion from my sugar-is-the-devil ways, I'd love to share one of my favourite Christmas recipes. They make the perfect gift!*
By December, Sweden has very few hours of daylight so some clever bugger came up with the idea of celebrating the four Sundays before Christmas, by lighting candles and drinking mulled wine. Golf clap.
I think this is because you see 'your other half' do shit that you can't, so you get super impressed with their skill set and decide to marry them.
A box/drawer/room that causes a twitch in your right eye every time you walk past, but not enough that you actually do anything about it.
My contributions of 'ghost bananas' and mini 'pumpkins' we not the most popular choice. I blame 1) merchandise positioning - he'd placed them right near the big pot of candy and 2) his complete failure to sell them in.
Adding to the mysteries of Sweden, there is no hangman in 'hangman', you just drawing a sad looking face.
I went as the dead car crash victim in the Great Gatsby/or a Dickens novel. I have to say, looking dead took no effort at all. Over the last few months I have truly perfected the haggard look and basically, just roll out of bed every morning looking like this.