What this bicycle needs...

On your bike, how much stuff is too much stuff?

For my commute I have the basics: pannier, lights, bell, helmet. My bike is fairly accessory-light.

And that's fine.
But it isn't easy for me.

I'm a hoarder, aesthetically driven and an impulse buyer, so keeping my bike simple and functional is harder than you might think. I just really love stuff.

Every time I browse a bike fashion blog or a bike gadget website, I risk ending up with something else to attach to my bike. One of my favourite cycling bloggers, Alice from Quaint Living, has a handlebar mounted cup holder.

Do I need a handlebar mounted cup holder? No.
Do I want a handlebar mounted cup holder? Apparently so!

The internet is a dangerous places - I work pretty hard not to bankrupt myself.

I'm such a Mrs Armitage:

"Mrs Armitage sets off for a quiet cycle with her faithful dog, Breakspear, but she just can't help thinking of ways to improve her bicycle. Before very long she has added three very loud horns, a bucket of water to wash her hands, a complete tool kit. And by the time she has also added a seat for Breakspear, two umbrellas, a cassette player and a mouth-organ, Mrs Armitage is riding a very eye-catching contraption. But it is when she finally adds the mast and sail, that Mrs Armitage really runs into trouble. . ."





With a whole world of beautiful bike accessories out there, how much is too much?
Have you ever seen an over-accessorised bike?
Where is the line between basic:handy:luxury:overload?

How to: White soda bread to restore soul

Bread makes me feel good about myself. Once I've baked bread I can open my door, hold my loaf on high and declare to the street:

''I created this! It's beautiful! What have you done with your time that's half as good as this?"

Bread restores the soul. It's hearty, its comforting and, most importantly, its that little bit tricky, so once you've mastered it you can feel like a proud, productive member of society.

As far as I'm concerned you're winning at life if you can make bread.

The problem is that bread isn't actually tricky at all. Some bread is really easy. A doddle in fact.

Soda bread for instance. Quick, easy, tasty. This recipe makes a small loaf, and can be quite dense.

Pre-heat oven and baking tray to 230°C. It's good to have the baking tray hot too.

300g white flour (I sometimes use 100g of either spelt/wholemeal/white bread flour mixed with 200g of normal white flour for variation)

Large pinch of salt

2 tsps of baking powder

Approximately 200-250ml of buttermilk/whey/milk (sour if possible - the acid helps)

- Weigh out the dry ingredients and mix in a large bowl.

- Add most of your chosen liquid and mix with a fork until a sticky dough is formed, adding more liquid as required.

- Transfer dough from bowl to a floured service and shape into a round loaf. Place on the baking tray and score a deepish cross into the top of the loaf.

- Bake for 15-25 minutes. When you remove the loaf from the oven you can either leave it to cool as is, or wrap it in a damp tea towel to form a softer crust.

- Eat, enjoy and be proud.

I've spent many an other wise miserable evening eating this bread straight from the oven, dripping in butter and drinking red wine. I can highly recommend it to lift your spirits.

Inspiration strikes: Fever Ray and Shaman

Have you heard the eponymous Fever Ray album? It's bloody good.

I adore When I Grow Up. I wake up to it ever morning, and the video is mesmerising.



After watching the video repeatedly for days on end I decided I needed more shamanic, witch doctory attire in my life.

So I got stenciling and ended up with this motif on a t-shirt:


I'm pretty pleased with it, especially the feathers. I also love the way the antlers reach right onto my shoulders.

I suppose it's kind of gruesome?
What do you think?

What one thing could you not live without this winter?

What is the one thing that really makes winter for you? The one thing that you really love and look forward to?

For me it's probably wool: being snuggled up in heaps of scarves, socks, tights, jumpers and gloves.
It may not be all that fashionable, but there is little that pleases me more than being snug while outside on a cold, crisp winter's day.

At least I didn't think it was fashionable until I saw Missoni's A/W collection:



In preparation for autumn squirrels will be burying nuts, but I will be hunting for scarves! Many, many scarves.

Of haws and thorns

Has the Natural History Museum identified your parasite yet?

My commute to work is generally spent chatting to my fellow car sharers

How's the knitting?
Do you want to talk a three hour lunch break today to walk to the Crowmarsh Battle Barns?

But recently I've been distracted by searching the hedgerows for a sign.

I'm looking for the tiny spots of acid green that means the hawthorn is coming out. If the hawthorn is starting to grow that means spring is just around the corner.

Hawthorn is one of my favourite things in the world.
It's green leaves are a joy to see in the otherwise brown hedgerows. Not to mention you can eat the young leaves, they make a great addition to salads and are one of the earliest spring wild foods to be found. Now that sounds like an excellent sign of spring to me.

We're nearly out of the darkness.

Matryoshka stones

Look at these beautiful Matryoshka stones by Resurrection Fern. What a simple, tactile and beautiful idea



A lot of the creations and pictures shared at Resurrection Fern are so in tune with my own love of natural materials and forms, and glorious, simple details.

Don't you just want to hold them?

Ever wondered whether you can race a Brompton?

You know those tiny, funny-looking, foldable bikes you see commuters riding? The ones that look like they may fall apart at any moment? Have you ever thought about racing them?

Last weekend I visited Blenheim Palace with my family. Not only because it's a beautiful and interesting place, but also because the Brompton World Championship.


Participants dress formally for the occasion. Full three piece suits, shirts, jackets and cocktail dresses. With Blenheim, the birth place of Churchill, in the background, it all looked frightfully British.