Today’s MLM is brought to you by the Stereophonics with Dakota
This song reminds me of only one thing: a road trip with my sister the year this album came out. We hired a little Renault Twingo at Charles de Gaulle and as we had a CD player, we bought this album rather than listen to French radio which was – at the time – a little too much French for me to be able to cope with. We must have listened to it about thirty times.
Much Love to road trips with my sister. She’s an excellent navigator. I can’t say as I’m an excellent driver, but if I’m ever lost around Munich, my sister is the one I want in the car with me. I hope we get to have lots more road trips in our life.
What’s also not to love about Kelly Jones, the lead singer? He’s a very handsome man.
If there’s one thing the Welsh do well, it’s singing with a gravelly voice and looking lovely with dark hair. There’s just something about a dark-eyed boy with celtic-pale skin in jeans and a leather jacket. Ahhhh.
If I remember rightly, this was the summer I was seeing a handsome fireman called Tim who lived in Cardiff. I could be wrong. That could be some other year. It was the summer of Wales. Ahhhh.
Anyway, there are lots of other things to have Much Love for this Monday.
The first would have to be my lovely friends here in France. I think I must be really lucky to have stumbled across such a great group of girls. I’d spend all day with these ladies if I could, even though they’d quite possibly want to kill me at the end of it, especially if I blog about their husbands’ waxing habits, or post pictures of them when they aren’t feeling at their most glamorous. It’s incredibly tempting to never go to work and just spend all day every day with these ladies doing all sorts of hare-brained things, drinking Pimms, having spa days and eating their cakes.
The second round of loveliness welling in my heart comes as always from my animals. Heston’s big dog bark is here to stay and yet he’s still hiding behind me every time he feels a little scared. I love the way my Tilly skips when we go on car journeys. Not much love for the cow-pat sized emissions from the Heston’s backside. That is not a good thing for a Monday. About the only thing that makes me want to leave my friends’ houses is my animals, so they should have Much Love for mes animaux as well, or else I’d never leave their houses.
Much Love for cupcakes and cupcake towers.
Much Love to the friend who, when I said autumn must be setting in because I was hunting out knitting patterns and looking up cake recipes, said “That sounds more like your autumn years are coming grandma…” and when I added I’d been thinking about soup, he said: “Good idea, It’s probably best to steer clear of solids at your age.”
There have been many, many nights over the last eight years that Mr Pickering has made me weep with laughter. Not least when I made up a story about him and left it on a website. I like him even though he supports Liverpool and makes a strangely feminine Essex Girl.
Much Love for knitting, though. All the kids are doing it these days. Apparently. I’m going to knit this pattern next:
Much Love for pears and for this recipe:
I know it’s a Gordon Ramsay recipe, and I can’t stand the puffed-up, self-opinionated, limelight-stealing, big-headed, weirdly-vain, crumple-headed buffoon myself, this looks like quite a good recipe. No love for GR. In fact, he deserves a big “Baaaaad!” as Mme V does to her dogs when they jump up on the couch. GR deserves to have Mme V following him around going “Baaaad! Gggrrrrrrr!” and smacking his nose if he humps anyone inappropriately, as I believe he is wont to do.
Much Love for autumn, for leek and potato soup, for potatoes fresh out of the ground, for potato salad, especially my Nana’s. And that’s not to cast aspersions on anyone’s potato salad if only to say my Nana and my sister make the best potato salad in the world. And that’s a shame for other potato salads that might be a 9 or a 9 1/2 but my Nana’s is a 10/10.
Much Love for cooler nights. I love autumn. I love all the seasons, really, but autumn is just so cosy. None of this ‘mellow fruitfulness’ malarky. Autumn is the season of oranges and chocolate browns, dark greens and faded yellows. It’s all about the pumpkins and the leaves, the wood-cutting and the smell of smoke, gentle fires and comfy slippers, good books, hot chocolates, long evenings and fresh mornings.
Bloody hell. It really does sound like I’m in my autumn years.