The London skies aren't welcoming today; instead, they're heavy and fat with rain. I've wrapped myself in a long charcoal cardigan, only leaving my apartment to get eggs and condensed milk. Likewise, my flatmate is only just getting into the bath - it's one of those dark days that you feel like hibernating. 

With beef and red wine slow cooking on the stove, the house is filled with a warm earthy aroma that makes me glad to nest. I watch cooking shows and pin recipes to my heart's delight... my only plans today revolve around cooking (tagliatelle di campagna and caramel tart with fresh cream and chocolate shavings). Slow hours like these make it impossible not to wander off in my mind: I suppose it's in times like these that  dreams of New Zealand and the Golden Coast were born. 

I can feel the wiry fingers of illness again and worry it's coming back. In London it's so easy to pick up other people's germs in this overcrowded city. With my fuzzy head and hot throat, I plan on taking a mid-afternoon bath and slouch on back into my soft cardigan before serving up dinner.

On my mind today (apart from my soft wool cardigan, slim-fit jeans and white company tank) are kissable raspberry lips, hand-written mugs for the home, pendant mood lighting, soft fur, spring in Paris, natural wicker baskets and copper cased candles. (all sourced at Polyvore)


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