Friday, June 22, 2007
Kitchen Complements is based on Chatham Street, just off Grafton Street, and it's crammed to the rafters with pots, pans, baking tins of all shapes and sizes, knick-knacks, gizmos and gadgets galore. You know, the kind of stuff that makes a foodie's eyes glaze over with the sheer joy of the all the culinary possibilities.
So I argued to myself that stepping inside would somehow help me with my quest for a suit by de-stressing a bit. Clothes shopping simply isn't my thing. There was nothing available that didn't make me look like I was wearing a sack and the interview was the next day... Aaaargh! That did it - I virtually ran through KC's front door to take refuge from all suit-related thoughts and spent the next hour rummaging around, oohing and aahing, and wondering what I could lug back on the train.
In the end, I decided to travel light and picked up these heart-shaped cookie cutters:
Yikes! That's not a flattering photo. Oh well, my blotchy hand isn't really the point - these cookie cutters are the perfect thing for making cute little jammy dodgers or custard creams for Veggie Kate's wedding next year, which is going to feature lots of tasty homemade treats from all her friends and family. It's such a cool idea. But I'll have to fly over to Scotland the week beforehand to bake in Veggie Kate's kitchen as there's a limit to how much I can get on the plane as hand luggage. Bloody RyanAir.
I'm looking forward to getting into the kitchen, testing out some recipes for the big day and making something special for such a wonderful friend. Sigh - I miss her so much already. Just read this and you'll understand the foundations of our friendship.
Eventually, after a hard slog around the shops, I cobbled a suit together that didn't look completely awful and went for the interview the next day.
I got the job. Hurray for distraction tactics and therapeutic shopping!
Monday, June 18, 2007
After 10 hours of driving, ferry hopping and then driving again, we've made it to Ireland and we're staying with Mr. B's parents for the week, as they live in a nearby town.
Now it's a case of waiting for the rest of our lives to rock up in the removal van on Wednesday and start the grand unpacking, accompanied by the traditional house-moving conversation of:
'What's this - is it yours?'
'Um... no, it's not mine.'
'Well, it's not mine either...'
You know, the kind of stuff we should have sorted out before shoving every last scrap of our lives together in a van and driving several hundred miles.
There's also the small challenge of putting the kitchen together. If I have the presence of mind later on, I'll take a picture and you can see the chaos.