first frost



Late in December – when I should have been buying Christmas presents for others – I was unable to walk past the neatly arranged pile of Nigel Slater’s The Kitchen Diaries III in Waterstones without picking up a copy for myself. Bound in bright, boyish blue, I keep it now by my bedside as opposed to stoveside, and thumb through his gorgeous descriptions of food and life and everything in between, whenever I need a pick-me-up.

This entry from January is especially pleasing, and not least because my mother, on receiving the same book as a present, read it aloud to me, one unseasonably rainy day after Christmas.


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