I’m writing this from the bakery, while I wait for an oven. Ok, yes, we’ve all been waiting for an oven ever since we moved into the bakery, but there’s an oven coming TODAY and I’m damned if I’m missing that. So I’m sat by a radiator waiting for our delivery.
I’m writing this from a hot desk at Liverpool biennial’s office. It’s in the Baltic triangle, and suitably enough, there’s snow coming down outside. It’s freezing out there. If you’d asked me a week ago how I felt about starting an internship for Liverpool biennial, I’d have said “lukewarm.”
During the summer, I went a bit bonkers over insulation. i filled my loft with enough rock-wool and reflective silver foil type stuff to make it look a little bit like one of those serial-killer lairs – like her off of Silent Witness was going to pop up through the loft hatch with a torch and a look of horror.
I’ve been reading Caitlin Moran’s book, How To Be a Woman. Ordinarily, when I find a book that really matters, I put it on the bakery bookshelf, because what’s the point of having something awesome without sharing it?
Do you remember when you were a teenager, and your mum and dad (or any variation thereof, in my case mum and stepdad) let you have a party?
Saturdays at the bakery are so random...
Liverpool Football Club announced last week that it’s working together partnership with the city council and local Housing Associations to Regenerate Anfield.
This is a momentous column. It’s the first one written AT Mitchell's. Until now, according to the fantastic builder, I’ve only been a” ghost writer” writing at home, but now I’m here and it’s all happening.
We had some training arranged for us recently. It was with a local CIC (Community Interest Company). I had an extremely bad feeling about it.
We had a sort of lecture at the bakery last week; three experts talking about the government’s targets for reduction of carbon emissions. There were graphs.
I was never the sort of person you’d call “sporty” – hell; five years ago I was the sort of person who couldn’t make it up a flight of stairs without a rest.
I have a weekend habit. I don’t know why weekends feel like free time but at the weekend iIfeel free to do my own thing. So I have got into the habit of doing my Street Daft at the weekend.
A few nights ago I was on a moonlight bike ride, when I met a lovely local character. I love going out in the evening, taking my three dogs out one after the other, to watch the sun set and the dark soak in.
My dog is odd. If you tell him it’s time to go for a walk, he isn’t impressed, but if you say “bedtime” he runs round barking and wagging. He’s got strange priorities.
