A blog. Like, wow.

I’m normally so chatty, but now I’ve got stage fright.

The intimidating bit is starting, I guess. If I already had a blog going, I know what I’d write about. I’d post the recipe of the chocolate pastry I made last night, which was actually going to be a chocolate mouse, but the egg whites wouldn’t go stiff (am I the only one that always happens to?). Or else I’d write about the person I’m trying to persuade to be a feminist, and how I die a little inside every time someone my in their twenties at university says that they aren’t a feminist. Or how I found out that when writing about the pope, you actually don’t capitalise it, except in a title, which I thought was interesting and slightly counterintuitive. But I’ll save that those for another post. Because it feels like at the start, you need a manifesto, a challenge, a statement of purpose.

Alright, a statement of purpose. This blog is going to be about my thoughts, recipes, kitchen disasters, and photographs. Feminism, grammar, politics, and cooking. I’ve been trying to make more deserts lately, because normally I prefer cooking savoury. I’ve been working through the deserts in Delia Smith’s Complete Cooking Course. Some of them will probably feature. The mould on my bedroom wall, that I found yesterday, may also feature. It may even lead to a discussion on the quality of housing in Wellington, New Zealand, and a debate about tenancy laws and lack thereof. We’ll just have to see.

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