We like tiramisu.

via kitsune noir and TED

They’re a risky business, almond croissants. Sure, they look all delicious with their almonds on top, but it’s impossible to tell how much almond paste you’re going to get until you bite into them. I’m proposing a revolution in almond croissant design, where they’re sold in two halves, and food colouring is used in the paste just so you can see what you’re getting yourself into.

You can get vegetarian sushi, which is pretty awesome. I never had sushi before; the idea of raw fish didn’t appeal. The idea of raw vegetables and sticky rice definitely does, though.

Lovely, quiet sit in the (now-funded!) St. James’ Park before walking to work with Charlotte.

Continuing the unofficial food abstracts and closeups, the incredibly-difficult-to-white-balance; Raspberries. Nice-looking, stupid-tasting.

Strawberries are the best fruit. I’m not a huge fan of the taste, but look at those things. They’re so cute!

I’m not sure what this really says about me, but it should keep me in vodka for at least a week.

Since observing the new internet fascination with novelty cupcakes, we tried to find some. On short notice, the best we could really do was chocolate ones from LIDL and lemon and strawberry ones from Waitrose. Better luck next time.

Dohnuts are mostly evil

I’m sure there’s a fairly simple mathematical equation that could describe my susceptibility to a worsening mood, depending on a numeric representation of my current state. Either way, it seems to go:

1. Super good mood

Can’t phase me, unless you’re trying really hard

2. Pretty good mood

Standing one-footed on a totem pole

3. Good mood

Balancing the mood broom on my chin

4. Bad mood

Bear with sore head

5. Pretty bad mood

Freefalling by this point. Even positive things make it worse

6. Super bad mood

Just leave me alone

I’m thinking of giving the numeric value when people ask me how I am. Would make for a lot less arguments/bad feeling.