For breakfast worth dragging yourself out of bed for...

I ended up making strawberry jam. It was nice. I say 'was' because it's nearly all finished. I only made a few jars but it's definitely gratifying to see something you've cooked disappear so quickly!

Last jar standing - on top of my new favourite book.

If you're is keen for the recipe, hit me up. Don't be daunted - you could do it with your eyes closed, I promise!

The rewards of ill health

Breakfast in bed on a rainy morning?

Breakfast strawberries!

Don't mind if I do.

At least once a year I succumb to some disease or other. By which I mean, sit miserably in bed and feel disgusting - you know the type of thing. As this auspicious event usually falls during the busiest and most stressful time possible, it can be both a horrifying theft of already-scarce time and a much-needed break. I'm choosing to see this current one as the latter.

Being home during the day opens up worlds of cheap fruit-based opportunity. Yesterday I scored my weight (give or take 50kg) in strawberries for a song (well, $3, and I don't think the self serve checkouts would be that susceptible to music-based coercion). No clue what I'm going to do with them but hey, my fridge is full of strawberries in winter. That's something of a win.

Anthropomorphosis

My walk to the car after uni is lined with plane trees. Half the year that means getting badass pollen in every facial orifice if you even look at one of those bastards. 

What an asshole.

For the last few weeks I've been stopping under a particular tree to have a quick perve at three pigeons that are always sitting snuggled up together on the same branch.

For all I know they're different pigeons from day to day, but I like to think they're the same young family, or maybe consenting adults enjoying a happy ménage-à-trois. Whatever, I like them. Keep being rad, pigeons.