Tuesday 26 November 2013


It's that time of year again. A few things I like, I hope you like them too.

Clockwise from top left: Galaxy clutch, grey nails and pink lips, burgundy and navy cashmere, an Aran jumper to go with everything, wool socks, a small vase, a Malteser Reindeer just because, Merino boots for permanently cold feet, a ring from a favourite jeweller, a good read, pistachio baths, a pen for (my annoying habit of) doing puzzles in bed, a new favourite mug and a trivet to rest it on, a copper can for earrings, an infinity ring, tinted vaseline, and some pretty Maine gems

Tuesday 5 November 2013


The temperature has plummeted. On Saturday it rained on and off all day. On Sunday it was bright but cold. Friends came for brunch, waffles with bacon and maple syrup for three of us, with bacon and sriracha for one with a limited appetitie for savoury sweet. After brunch we headed out for a walk, over to the Botanics, through the gardens to Inverleith Park, the temperature dropping more as we went. Our friends peeled off and we holed up in a quiet corner in Stockbridge with Guinness for me, Landlord for him. Last night it was -2, today there is a freezing cold mist hanging over the city.

In previous years the 5th November has been and gone with conversations about how mild it seemed. How mild compared to those childhood bonfire nights when we wore layer upon layer upon layer, heading outside a little bundled mass to look at the Guys that had been entered for the competition (the winning Guy destined to be carried aloft, flung onto the roaring bonfire). The brown paper bag heads with features drawn on, the old pair of trousers, shirt, tank top or jumper, all stuffed with newspaper and secured with string.

As we got older there were other bonfires. One with teenagers and adults walking with flaming torches to light the fire. One in our garden, the wood a little damp, a dubious decision regarding petrol, matches, and singed eyebrows (not mine). My favourite bonfire night as an adult, in London, watching from our balcony as the sky was lit by fireworks, spotting the glow of bonfires spread across the city.

But those bonfire night memories that I come back to the most are memories of Milland, the village we lived in until I was six. Maybe that's when this night felt the most magical. Going out after dark, watching the fire start and grow, holding sparklers with mittened hands, watching the fireworks. Halloween was fun but bonfire night felt special, otherworldly.

Today feels like one of those bonfire nights. Built for layers, for warm drinks, for frosty breath over sparklers.We'll be at home this evening, the heating will be on, bangs will pepper our conversation. We'll look outside, we'll see fireworks from Leith, from Calton Hill. It still feels special.

Monday 4 November 2013



'The first cashmere sweater I owned was dusty sugar pink, and I wore it so a boy I liked would want to put his arms around me.'

Words: Sophie Dahl for J Crew
Lambswool jumper: YMC

Friday 1 November 2013


I've been a little quiet of late. 2 months have been and gone, there was a trip to Arisaig, a bout of tonsillitis, a few birthdays, a wedding. I'd been planning to post today. A list for Friday perhaps, a link to a gig I'm looking forward to next week, a book, you know how it goes. Or maybe I could tell you about my morning. How I can't remember if my alarm went off but I can remember how Chris gently shook me awake after I had overslept, how I tried to claw back the minutes and managed to take a big chip out of my favourite mug in the process, how I had to get the bus to work to be at a 9am meeting, how I went to get a coffee and a pain au chocolat to compensate for it all but I'm still sleepy and I want to go home. But I'm sure you don't need to hear me whining so I'll tell you about tonight instead. Tonight I'll finish work and Chris will come to meet me. We'll walk to Analogue to pick up some books he's ordered, maybe a magazine, and then we'll head over to Blackfriars.

I feel a little remiss in not mentioning Blackfriars before now. It's the best kind of place, good drinks, nice people to talk to, great food. We sit at our favourite table and order a beer (they were good, now, with a new list, excellent). We chat, between ourselves, with friends, with Wes, Andrew, Georgie, we have another drink. We might have talked about making dinner at home but the bar menu calls to us. I'll see the chips with bearnaise sauce, the steak roll. Chris will start talking about the black pudding with fried egg, the broccoli salad. And it's done, we stay to eat. Again, and again, and again. As I said, it's the best kind of place.