It isn’t all rosy living overseas sometimes you get really fed up, not so much homesick, but just fed up and think what is all this B-S about. Those are the times when I want a good bitch – the kind of session that is chased by a couple bottles of wine and then drinks turns into dinner. That is when I miss London and friends. You can make new friends when you go overseas but it’s “your people” back home – the ones who saw you when life wasn’t glamorous (ha!), the long nights of crying over undesirable men, watching the same programme on tv whilst on the phone to each other and the exchange of looks that let you know you are both thinking the same thing – are the ones you crave the most. Even the fantastic newer friends you make and meet can’t ever truly replace “your people”. I was feeling particularly in need to some good old fashioned raise me up and I wanted to do it somewhere where they truly spoke my language – English. Tucked away on the Rive Gauche was a place I had heard of brimming with Southern hospitality (I do love reading Southern Living and Garden and Gun magazines) and a welcome to blast away the darkest of clouds hanging over one’s head. What is this paradise called I hear you say well 13-a baker’s dozen owned and run by Laurel! View Post
It’s often said and it’s true Paris is a city that is best discovered on foot. Yes, you do need to watch where you place your foot so sometimes you miss the wonderful architecture as you are worried about, rightly so, la merde everywhere. That aside one of my favourite places to get lost in is le Haut Marais where there are the most incredible showrooms, designers, my favourite shop L’habilleur and great restaurants. On one of my many adventures in this part of town I stumbled across Merci Merci although the frontage just says Merci – a concept store that also houses three different eating venues – this is someone who knows from experience that shopping is a hunger inducing activity! View Post
My name is Liquid Marmalade and I am a Polluter.
Polluter of what exactly?
Yes my crime in a country of black coffee drinkers is: I love mine with the white stuff. I don’t want cream or sugar but milk. Also I like a big cup of coffee none of this mini espresso cup nonsense which is what you get if you say café please. If you want an Anglo-Saxon style coffee then ask for an americano. Every time I ask for milk I get the look that says quelle horreur. View Post