Those who know me know that I used to write a blog about lingerie which I loved very much but also made me so fed up I couldn’t even talk about a bra without becoming a full on raving monster. So I took a break from the whole ‘blogging’ thing. (I still love lingerie, but the only thing I could possibly write about it in the future is an extremely well referenced diatribe, so bear with me).
Recently, however, I realised that I missed writing: mostly writing about inconsequential things that make me happy. Well, that’s not entirely true– I am likely to have Deep Thoughts now and again, but in this world of everything being terrible, I am attempting to focus on the narrow band of pleasurable things that I get to do for myself, my family and my friends. Namely, baking (and cooking) and making my home pretty. Possibly a bit of sewing (given that it’s my day job), but we’ll see. Basically, anything that a 1950’s housewife was supposed to find interesting but didn’t.
And the name? Well, as some of you might know, I recently got married and both my wife and I are hyphenating our names. So I thought I’d embrace the fact that not only will I continue to hear, “And how do you spell that?” for the rest of my life, but I’ve made it into a family thing that no one will ever, ever get right. But as a gay couple, this whole ‘being married’ thing was never going to be totally simple was it?