Insulation

Perhaps it's because it's cold out that I am eating extra biscuits and chocolate. I have even left several bananas longer than I normally would, specifically to speckle, so that I can bake a loaf of banana bread that has been described as "f*cking awesome" by someone who reviewed the recipe (I will share it if it is this good).

I will bake later. I can't wait. Hello, double chin.

They're not just for Easter...

Is it just me that believes Cadbury creme eggs were available all year round in the 70s and 80s? They aren't Easter fayre, are they? Do I have false Cadbury's memory syndrome?

Nessun dorma

I have had trouble sleeping again. The pains near my ribs and the physical discomfort are to be expected at this stage of pregnancy but, flipping heck. I felt like a zombie as I sat having my cereal and toast and had to set my work aside to clamber back up to bed (the effort of this left me breathless).

Mum brought me some chicken curry for lunch. This was brilliant, as I would otherwise have eaten what was in our fridge (bread and cheese), which is not a balanced diet. My trip to Sainsbury's to stock up on fruit and some other stuff will have to wait. These things (shopping for food, working, climbing stairs) would once have been so easy. OK, so sleep was never my strong point but it was getting there. Dang.

Hot tea

Had some tea – black tea with fiery chillies in it – today. I'd met a friend for a catch-up and we chose my local tea house with its civilised tables, trays of cake and remarkably long menu of tea varieties as our venue.

It was a delicious drink – hot, refreshing and had a satisfying kick. I even parted with a few quid for a pouch of the stuff to take home. It would make a great morning pick-me-up , which, by God, I need.

I feel a bit sick now though...

Ducking the ducks

Well, we didn't really duck the ducks (or the geese), but they were very funny company as S and I sat by a lovely lake today. The sun shone and we lazed on a blanket all afternoon, as our feathered friends strutted around eyeing us for bits of our picnic. They were partial to M&S bacon rasher crisps and even pecked at pieces of jalapeno chili tortilla chips, which worried me slightly.

As we lay back, we listened to snatches of conversations from the passersby who would occasionally stop and sit on a nearby bench, their words carried to us on the gentle breeze. It was a lovely, lovely day. Just the thing to follow our hectic day of packing boxes yesterday in preparation for our home move.

A day in the sun

I felt rotten – dizzy and sick – until I ventured into my back garden and potted a plant that I will be taking to the new place. The fresh air and warmth were like magic. Said plant had been suffering under the shadow of the massive clematis and was straining to reach light and was probably starved of water and suchlike. I imagine the clematis roots spread far and wide.

The sunshine on my arms felt good. I've been stuck inside for what feels like months, feeling pretty rotten. And when I am inactive I feel the cold more acutely than I would otherwise. So, it was great to get outside. Then, my neighbour popped round and gave me a present, totally unexpected, and beautifully thoughtful. When we move, I'll think of them as current friends, not old neighbours.

Later, I went for a drive and succumbed to a McDonald's (I know, I know...). I ate it overlooking the green nearby, the sun shining on me, my CD player on. Next, I went home, sat on the sofa, stuck on a CD that a friend had given me for Christmas (Sarah Slean – very good, like a female Ben Folds) and I finished the novel I was reading. S came home later, exhausted, having spent seven hours cleaning his little boat, as he's selling it. He had caught the sun and hadn't eaten all day but looked happy with his work.

It turned out to be a lovely day. Peaceful and warm. Bliss.

The rage

Today, I had The Rage. It was caused by: slow drivers, people who amble along reading/writing texts at rush hour, the slush, the stupid printing machine at work, the IT people at work (one had the gall to tell me to turn my computer off and then on again, FFS), my friend cancelling dinner as she didn't want to venture home when it was late (and I really, really needed a drink and a chat, so I was peeved)... and, erm, there were other things, too. I swore like a trooper/trouper (?!) without much self-consciousness. But then again, I have spent years in newspaper offices/publishing. It's tough. You have to be.

But I'm home now and have eaten a creme egg (after having some proper food). And it is Friday! Hurrah. All's well with the world.

The snow bear

I made a snow bear in the local park with S this evening. It was very cold and my fingers were frozen (despite wearing gloves). The bear had little ears and small but thick arms (made of snow). S and I also had a snowball fight. Then we went home and I made dinner and baked a soft chocolate cake with fat, sweet cherries in it.

I have a feeling I am going to have to struggle in to work tomorrow. Oh dear. My journey involves two bus rides and a train journey... Fingers crossed that a) it snows really hard tonight or b) it thaws – now.

Chocolate heaven

I am baking a chocolate cake using a French recipe that a friend was sent by the people who owned a cottage in which he holidayed recently. The first part of the method involved melting dark chocolate and butter. None of this milk chocolate or margarine lark, I'll have you know. The aroma of the butter softening and the bitter-ish chocolate turning to liquid was incredible.

I added the other ingredients and watched as the rich, possibly quite unhealthy blend glistened as I moved it around the bowl. The texture and colour was fabulous – it put me in mind of the character in Chocolat, which was a better book than it was a film. The sensuousness of the scenes and smells that I imagined in Chocolat was present in my kitchen. It still is.

The buzzer on the oven just went but the cake is not yet done. I will give it another five or ten minutes, to ensure it is solid enough to cut. If it isn't, it won't be a disaster. I licked the slim, sharp knife I poked into the hot cake and it is definitely not cooked. I know it was silly to lick the knife but if you'd have seen what was on that knife, you'd have run your tongue carefully along the blade, too.

A picture of said cake will follow once it is done. I'm just going to sit awhile, in the warmth, inhaling. Mmm.

Cold infested – again

Agh, I have yet another cold. It has robbed me of sleep this week and given me a sore nose, chesty cough and too much phlegm for my liking. The virus (above) is amazing looking though, don't you think?

I toyed with the idea of going to kung fu earlier this week but wisely refrained and took to my bed with painkillers washed down with a mug of hot water that had manuka honey and whiskey dissolved in it. It seemed to knock me out. But still, as is the curse of the self-employed, I have had to work... Thank God I am at home and can sniffle about with no make-up on and get out of bed a bit later than I usually do. I am also wrapped up in several badly coordinating tops and a pair of jeans. M, the rabbit, just looks at me, cute as hell, eyes as limpidly affectionate as ever.

S told me I look lovely yesterday evening, though I knew this was far from the truth. Bless him. I was pale and the skin around my eyes is dry and uncomfortable. We ordered a delicious curry this evening. I don't have much appetite or energy but a curry always goes down well and I'm certain it helps to destroy the cold virus. Worth a try, anyway.

Hovis triumph

The new Hovis TV advert is superb. S and I watched it in unexpected silence and after it had finished said: "What a brilliant ad." And then, after a moment of silence, we confessed that we both felt tearful (in a good way, filled with nostalgia for times that we had never even lived in being in our mid to late 30s).

I have just found a clip of the advert – it was aired this evening (with Coronation Street made shorter for the first time, to accommodate its length). It charts the Hovis Boy, the one we all know so well, going through streets of more than a century ago and track him running through the 20s, 30s, 40s... and on and on through evocative moments. You see Suffragetes, the Blitz, the miners' strikes, 1966 (football of course), the Millennium and on it goes until the boy runs into his warm 2008 kitchen with a loaf of bread. I felt choked watching it.

Absolutely fabulous work, ad folk. You did well. I think it is one of my favourite adverts of all time – and I have seen it but once.

Cold infested

It's horrible being self-employed when you have a cold. I have had one all week – it started mildly and then, due to commuting for three hours a day and being in air-conditioned offices, it has worsened.

I've been drinking horrible Lemsip (orange and something) and trying to eat healthily, though I seem drawn to cheese (Mini Cheddars, cheese Doritos/M&S tortilla chips, cheese sandwiches, cheese sauce (on gnocchi) and erm, I think that might be it).

I have an eye infection now and look as though I have been punched. My right eye was red and angry when I woke – I have thrown all my (newish) mascara into the bin just to be sure I'm not harbouring germs. A day in bed would have seen this off but hey, no such thing as sick leave for the likes of me. I so want to scratch my eye – it is dry and gritty. Aaaaagh. I've been coming home and flopping almost every night.

I think I picked up the virus from a chap in kung fu last week. I asked how he was and he snuffled: "Am OK but am just getting over a cold, thought I should come back to class." Oh brilliant. Then we had to hold hands while stretching, which can be a sweaty affair at the best of times – and doesn't perspiration carry toxins? Charming.

I wish the instructor would bring in two new rules: 1) do not train when you are ill (it is selfish) and 2) always use deodorant! (some of the blokes stink!)

Scones and tea?

For scone fans, this is the recipe I used, courtesy of the BBC Food website (see below). Excuse gratuitous repeat of close up of scones with butter and jam. I had no clotted cream, unfortunately, but they were still tasty.

Ingredients
225g/8oz self raising flour
pinch of salt
55g/2oz butter
25g/1oz caster sugar
150ml/5fl oz milk

Method
1. Heat the oven to 220C/425F/Gas 7. Lightly grease a baking sheet.
2. Mix together the flour and salt and rub in the butter.
3. Stir in the sugar and then the milk to get a soft dough.
4. Turn on to a floured work surface and knead very lightly. Pat out to a round 2cm/¾in thick. Use a 5cm/2in cutter to stamp out rounds and place on a baking sheet. Lightly knead together the rest of the dough and stamp out more scones to use it all up.
5. Brush the tops of the scones with a little milk. Bake for 12-15 minutes until well risen and golden.
6. Cool on a wire rack and serve with butter and good jam and maybe some clotted cream.

Domestic therapy

When I was younger, I baked regularly. From about the age of eight, I blended cake mixture (and licked the spoon and scraped the bowl), pounded pastry for delicious fruit pies, rolled out biscuits and generally did kitchen-esque things that would make Delia proud.

The art of making food – the textures, aromas, anticipation, salivation – have always been therapy from the stressors that have bothered me. I felt warm and safe in the kitchen, where I had my own corner of the counter as my mum went about making a Sunday roast. (I was tidy, showing early signs of Monica-from-Friends tendencies that have stayed with me, but it was a useful trait when dealing with flour and eggs...)

I especially enjoyed serving my creations to my family and friends. In fact, when I was in my twenties, I used to bake banana bread every Sunday for my colleagues. There was never much left by Monday lunchtime. Sometimes, I'd have a slice myself.

So, this afternoon, following a week where I felt churned up and deeply upset for a variety of rather heavy reasons, I Googled for a recipe for scones (as I knew I'd already have the necessary ingredients) and voilà...



The scones tasted good. Even if I do say so myself. And my headache disappeared as the smell of baking emanated from the oven. I can see myself spending a good few hours in the kitchen as autumn (lovely autumn!) approaches.

Blue

Today was one of those days when I wished I had stayed in bed...

• I've had one assignment slashed by half, at very short notice, and it has made me feel awful. It's an awkward situation where someone wants to save money and is questioning why I need X number of days to do something. I've taken X days to do the same volume for years and been praised and asked back again and again. But now? Now, all of a sudden, I'm being made to feel as though I've lied about the amount of time I spent previously (when I worked my arse off) and have been questioned about what I did. It's very depressing. I feel like a popped balloon. I haven't felt like crying about work for a long time.

• I had a headache all day yesterday as I didn't get enough sleep. Consequently, I didn't sleep well last night, which for me, is a bloody shitty disaster.

• I was absolutely dire in kung fu. I almost burst into tears in the middle of class; in fact tears did roll down my cheeks but I pretended they were sweat, not that it fooled anyone. N, the instructor, was infinitely patient with me. I think he was willing me not to cry. I was burning up inside as everyone seemed to grasp what we were meant to be doing and I ended up looking like a moron. My brain just wasn't retaining anything. It was like a vacuum. A couple of my fellow students said I was "doing well", but I know I wasn't. They were trying to be supportive but it just made me feel even more inadequate that they had noticed me struggling so badly, so much so that they (who are by no means brilliant) felt they could comment. I know they were trying to help, though... I know. But it felt rather patronising.

• I had a (surprisingly healthy) ready meal and some old cream liquor for dinner. I felt better – number – as the alcohol warmed my body and quietened my brain.

• I've had my hair cut recently; it was very long and is now shoulder length. Most people have said positive things about it but a couple of people have said nothing except "Oh, you've had your hair cut?" What am I supposed to say? "Er, no. I just have a wig on." Why do people bother saying anything if they think I look horrible? Why not just not say anything? The worst was one friend who said: "Ah, had your hair cut..." and then did this noise, a sort of elongated "oh" mixed with a "hmmm" while nodding slowly and unconvincingly. Yeah, that made me feel amazing – thanks. I'd never do that to someone – unless I wanted to hurt them. Main thing is that I really like my hair now, it is much more manageable and is finally in a decent style. S loved it and so do most of my comrades, so what does it matter? (It matters when it's one more criticism to add to a day-full...)

• Oh fuck it. I'm going to bed.

Silver linings

Having had a rather odd week, I started to feel a lot better the night before my birthday (yep, I am still talking about it...).

I'd asked a few friends to come to the dog races for dinner and a spot of minor gambling. None, bar one, could make it – understandable seeing as I'd given people four days' notice for a Saturday night in July. So, despite a shadow of self-doubt creeping into my mind, I didn't take offence and instead believed people's reasons. In any case, it has given me the excuse to extend said birthday celebrations for when some of my friends are free.

I was a little nervous, however, that the races wouldn't be enjoyable, fearing that my blue-hued mood and accompanying state of mild unease might return. But instead, and I don't know why, the cloud that had been sitting on my shoulders lifted, leaving behind only a silver lining.

S won many races, showing an ability to read form that surprised me – not for the first time. I mainly went on a combination of a liking for the dog's name, gut feeling and a scan at the dog's past few race results, and won about one in three races. Our friend, P, gambled a couple of quid on a few races and mainly lost, but we all got into the spirit of the event quickly and had a wonderful evening despite not beating the bank.

The next day, I woke up at about 9.30am and got ready slowly. The actions involved in me having a shower and blowdrying my hair rendered me hot and sticky. Beads of perspiration sat on my nose and upper lip. Not the look I was going for. I wore a floaty dress with thin straps, and sandals, and that was all still too hot. As S and I waited in the sun for a bus, I squashed myself up against a wall to stand in a sliver of shadow. Ordinarily, we might have walked along the river to get to our destination, but it was scorchingly hot.

S took me to a restaurant overlooking the river where the air was conditioned (even though we were sitting just outside) and the food fantastic. The cold, sparkling wine we drank magnified the drowsiness caused by the heat, and we sat there for hours before making our way to a park, sitting there for a while and then returning home, where we lay in front of a fan. It was relaxed and relaxing. I was merry on wine and warmth. It was a lovely day.

At one point during the meal, I recalled my last birthday, when I felt horrendous on account of being in the throes of terrible insomnia and my sleep regime. I realised that in one year, life had moved on in a way that at that time I could not imagine. Perhaps that change – the fact that things have altered – has given me cause for (careful) excitement for the coming year. A friend emailed me today, reminding me of a list of things he had said I'd do between my last birthday and this one. I haven't done any of them. But that wasn't my list. It's time for me to draw up one of my own.

Couldn't buy the sausages

They should hold off the descriptions on some packs of sausages. I was at Sainsbury's today, doing a weekly-ish shop, and thought Mmm, yes, some nice bangers would be good...

I like sausages with a very high meat content (as do most people) and read packets to see if I could find any that were 90%-plus. I picked up a packet that looked promising and read that 'the pigs are given room to roam, mud baths and shelter and warm bedding to keep them comfortable in the winter'.

Guilty? I felt a bit sick as I went to look at pasta sauce. I know I am a hypocrite and of course I want animals kept well but it made me feel like an evil murderer. It was the bit about keeping them warm in winter that got to me. I didn't buy any sausages. (But yes, I know, I am a terrible hypocrite...)

Couch potato

I planned to go out to join some friends in the pub last night but instead, fell asleep on the sofa in front of Big Brother, which was a bit lame (the programme and the slumbering).

So I slapped some butter on fresh bread and slathered on a dollop of toffee sauce from the Hawkshead company. Delicious. Then, I watched Sex and the City on Paramount with the rain pattering outside.

I realise that this is all a bit lazy but after the six-hour guitar hero marathon the previous night, far too much wine and insufficient sleep, I was flaking out. Sometimes it's good to be a slob.

PS: BB Sylvia really is quite odd – the thing with her and Luke was simply not funny. She's like a petulant three-year-old but with the hormones of a dog on heat. Ah well, eviction night tonight, eh Sylv?

Guitar heroes

Ahhhh, so tired. Myself, S and a friend played Wii guitar hero for five hours last night. I got to bed at 3am. I was rocking along to songs that I had previously not heard (and if I had, I wouldn't have liked them sans game). It was fantastic fun, quite possibly moreso because we drank lots of wine and ale. I haven't laughed so much in months.

It's 4pm now and I feel OK on the whole but have that heavy-head tiredness that accompanies late nights these days (not that I often party midweek). I'm meant to be going out tonight but will stick to water, I think. My liver will be grateful. I'm just glad I am on holiday this week.

Things I saw today...

• A group of what looked like South American Indians performing near the shops I visited today. I usually walk past but, as I have time on my hands this week, I slowed my pace. It was very sweet and relaxing, this music. It made me feel sad, and I am not sure why.

• A smart old lady pushing a trolley of Stella and other stuff through the car park in Sainsbury's. I wondered how she would cope with unloading the trolley. Either she was much tougher than she looked or was in fact aged only 50 and a hardened boozer.

• An email inbox devoid of work emails. This is rare. (There were some from worky people but they were group emails and were fairly banal in content.)

• Cards for 40 year olds. The friend I have recently reconnected with is having a party to mark her big day on Saturday and S and I are going. I looked around several shops to find a suitable card. It wasn't easy. Most cards for women were either tasteful and rather too sedate or completely ridiculously 'up yours' at being 40. So I got a card that didn't make any reference to age, which, I firmly believe (being 38) doesn't matter a flying fig anyway.

• A man lying in the road having been knocked off his motorbike. His helmet was in bits. He seemed to be talking to the police and paramedics. I hope he is OK, and I hope the car driver is OK, too. All too often, motorbikes zoom out at mad speed (but I don't know if this was the case, and shall reserve judgment). I turned my music down as it seemed disrespectful to drive by as though I was having a party.

• My rabbit, M, is so excited when I get home these days that she races around the flat and binkies (twisty jumps while running). She is extremely cool and very affectionate.

• I saw – and bought – some scallops in Sainsbury's. S cooks these to perfection and I am having to stop myself from raiding the cupboard for the tortilla crisps I bought to preserve my appetite.

• The sunshine – at 5am. Sunrise is very early these days, eh? My eye mask had slipped off and, apart from feeling tired, I was convinced it was 7.30am. (I still get up early-ish these days as per my sleep programme rules, holiday or not.)