Showing posts with label no sex please we're biscuits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no sex please we're biscuits. Show all posts

Wednesday, 12 August 2009

God’s life spring in a biscuit tin

I wonder if the contents of my biscuit tin could be a reflection of my life. I know what I’d like in my biscuit tin –

Ladurée maccaroons, mini florentines, or perhaps NICE biscuits, even better, Belgian Waffling’s nice biscuits.

But due to the yeast / egg free thing going on presently this is mine and Erbie’s biscuit tin.


No fat , no sugar, a bit salty, fairly dry. Read as: no work, no sex, housing meetings, fairly boring.

Biscuit tins are another oddity, certainly not something I utilised before Erbie. Biscuits didn’t last long enough to put in a tin, and if they were, were usually forgotten about well past their sell by date. This tin was my mother’s and now I am a mother it has got biscuits in, all be it little savoury ones.

Other nonsense

Quote of the day

‘They tuck you up your mum and dad...’
Anon - after Larkin

“Philately will get you everywhere”
WEM

“It’s not the despair, I can handle the despair. 
It’s the hope I can’t deal with”
Clockwise

“Each new friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
Anais Nin

‘Come on Dover move your bloomin’ arse’.
Eliza Doolittle