That Anxious Welsh Chef

My father is a huge fan of getting up and getting in early. He says it’s like hard work in that it is good for the soul. No he’s not a philosopher, although I reckon he would make a good one, he’s actually a software developer like T. It is only in recent years that…

It’s been a pretty tiring night. The first Friday night I have worked in a long time. Needless to say I am not currently looking my very best. She’s a cruel mistress, Friday night. 194 covers from 5pm onwards. Just as well I did up a few birthday plates in advance. It was a bit…

The South Bristol Post is a great newspaper. Its handy for all sorts of household jobs. This morning it was pressed into service to protect the kitchen floor while we repotted the money tree. The money tree was a present from Mama A when I first moved into my flat in Bradford on Avon four…

A complete change of theme from last week but in my defence it has been very cold today. To The Snow Walk with me my darling In the dreamlike snow It fell in a lullaby. And made the world softer Quieter. It rounded its corners. Made the night less dark. It softened its glare. But…

During the first lockdown, before I met T, I stayed with my parents in Pontypridd. My parents have two big allotments. They grow all kinds of fruit, vegetables and flowers. My mother is a wonderful gardener. My father. Well my father likes digging. One evening he was practically rubbing his hands with glee as he…

This was sort of a sequel to Signs of Spring. All about finding some optimism where it wasn’t easy to see. Rain in Bristol, 3pm The clouds came at two, They stole the park’s beauty. Turned it in an instant to desolation. The whispered promise of the trees, Became an angry bellow. It drowned out…

It’s probably optimistically early but hey we all need a little optimism on a rainy day. Signs of Spring The silver sunshine reflects on the roads, That are slick with the spoils of the nighttime storm. The houses on the hill sing out their colours. The grass grows greener, As the wind blows, No longer…

During my trial shift at the restaurant I was asked “How’s your chocolate writing?” I nonchalantly replied “Not bad.” It’s the calligraphy practice. A piping bag of chocolate is easy compared to dippy ink. Trust and believe. Inside I was dancing. Oh how I love a special occasion plate! There’s something about doing that little…