Clotilde

@clothildek.bsky.social

Books, cathedrals, swimming in lakes, cooking, politics. Cat-lover sadly cursed by allergies.

The 16 year old woke me up by having a bath at 2am. I have been awake ever since. He went to bed a bit after 4. Today I will be mostly consuming caffeine while watching very easy tv. Or else having a migraine. Possibly both.

My kid's going to be studying at UAL next year, so I follow them on Instagram and they've been showing reels of the graduations and you should all go and watch because the flair and panache and amazing outfits are not something I am accustomed to seeing at graduations.

England have won all their matches so far, and I haven't watched any of them, so I'm doing my bit for my adopted homeland by not watching this one either just in case my absence is the vital element to victory.

Last weekend, I cleaned out maggoty bin juice from inside the wheelie bin. Today, I got rid of the woodlouse graveyard behind the kitchen kickboard while trying to fix the broken dishwasher. I'm a little bit worried about what creepy crawly adventures are in store for my next day off.

I would just like to thank Trump and FIFA for making the World Cup suddenly interesting for all us nerds with no interest in football but an unhealthy obsession with political scandals. It's been a difficult time for us these past two weeks. You've really come through

It's 24.1 degrees in the office, and I've just put on my jumper. Please be kind to me during the colder months as I was clearly intented for somewhere warmer than Yorkshire, and spend most of the year a shivering wreck.

M&S limited edition strawberry and creme chia pudding is so good that several times this week I've found myself "forgetting" to make myself breakfast so that I have an excuse to buy some on my way into work.

I've started making calendar entries for things I want to do but keep failing to get around to, and it's giving me so much anticipatory joy to see chunks of time blocked off things like "drink tea and read magazines" and "bookshop and cafe afternoon".

english isn't for cowards. if you're not saying 'torpify,' that's a skill issue. there's no Académie Française telling you what to do. if you try to type 'pallific' and freak out when you see a little red underline, maybe you're not ready to roll with the big dogs.

Bild

My train home has been cancelled so I'm people-watching at the station and my generalisation about Oxford based on this is that the middle aged, middle class women in sensible shoes here are considerably swearier than their York equivalents. But that might just be due to the stress of rail travel.