Siobhan Hoffmann Sønderborg
@siobhanhoffmann
Freelance creative/project originator/business developer. Previously in academia. Now, elsewhere. Lover of literature, creative endeavours, silliness, exploring, language, visual/material culture. (Also sometimes hospitality & humanitarianism.) No DMs.
Still. There are frogs in this world. Frogs that one must treat gently so they don't spring off into the shadows, and accents that make you feel like you are welcome, and whatnot. Bonne journee, friends.
Nah, mate. You can't come in. Put water out for the animals, guys...
It was vital that I knew this piece of information.
I'm thinking slightly posher cuisine. You put different cuts of meat or veg in and then when you slice it you can see all the layers. I feel like it's eaten with piccalilli or cornichons. That kind of thing. It must be French. I want to make one with fennel. I picked some, earlier. Rosie approved.
The wind has picked up, but I will later. Have some roses, instead.
I don't have transport to get to John's. But I intend to celebrate in my own way. Quietly... Incidentally, I found this, the other day. We had such lovely evenings at your book launches, Frank. I regret not being able to make your last one, but was not fit for anything, unfortunately.
I understand, completely. Rosie has an incredibly busy schedule/hard life, too.
Well, this gift that I received in the post yesterday suddenly seems... Apposite.
There are many reasons why I love my partner, but this kind of thing is fairly high up on that list...
First time watching my dear Dad back on video. "Oxford is a home for lost causes." 😆 God, I loved that man.
No cheating: your last saved picture of a celebrity is your therapist... I'll take it.
I am quite poor at the moment. I have had stuff going on, as you all know. It was a bad day today. But I spotted a dress in a charity shop window. I decided to go in and ask about the dress. I tried the dress on. It was perfection. I bought the dress. Even though I have nowhere to wear the dress.
I cannot express how important it is that we all read our goddamn history, and *heavy sigh* recognise the patterns.
This might seem like a nondescript picture. But it tells me the following: It was taken in my parents' kitchen. The nice glass of wine was offered by John. He is cooking dinner and I am sitting on the kitchen counter, knees to chin, chatting with him as he cooks. I will stay overnight (bedsocks).
Always confuses me when I go to get an eye test and I see signs like this on the wall, and I momentarily think I'm going blind and/or mad.
I spent most of the day, since 4.30am when I was woken by a phone call, trying to get the day back. It involved making petals for paper flowers.
I'm just pondering whether I should get coloured laces... And if so, what colour?
Just whipped upsome no-churn ice cream from my leftover Christmas pudding (it was large & my Christmas was miserably mostly solitary). I was licking the spoon (bc double cream, condensed milk and brandy) when suddenly I felt so strongly like John was behind me peering over my shoulder. I miss him.