I’m not an art person but I can definitely be enticed out by a good brunch menu.
I was intending to go to the Henry Moore sculpture museum in Leeds, which is apparently a Very Important Museum if you are into art. I do not know about art but I do know that the idea of steak for breakfast feels very Americanly excessive and I am into that.
So here I am eating steak for breakfast at an art museum. Also someone decided to create a new word for cortado as maybe cortado doesn’t sound Italian enough and Piccolo makes the hipsters happy? I don’t know, but here is a piccolo (aka cortado).
Steak was good, coffee was good, egg was good. I was high maintenance and swapped out the chips (too early) for a hash brown (appropriate) but I would technically class this as a potato rosti.
I also feel the need to point out that I did not massacre a plate of tasty food by stripey smattering ketchup across the whole thing. That was some kind of chipotle type sauce from the chef and it was also good.
This isn’t just a post about how fussy I am regarding food and drink presentation and terminology.
I did actually visit a gallery as well. Here is some evidence:
My information on this is that an art student asked some different groups to make them a chair and then put the chairs together and here it is. UNITY IS POWER. I may have missed the point.
The rest of the museum did have a point of mental health, the artist did a collaborative sculpture / audio / art / written piece approach to time spent at mental health institutions gathering information.
The take home point I got was : men are shit.
Next up we have chaotic piano music pumping out to signify gradually declining mental health as your family drive you insane. Unsurprisingly the phone had a male voice saying things that would drive you insane.
After this an elaborate tale of how men fuck up your life.
But don’t worry, the (ex) wife eventually had a brief period of happiness before death.
Moral of the story, don’t marry men.
And other than some video / audio extras that was it. It’s a very small gallery (but free entry).
So I’m giving the gallery a 6 out of 10
Steak for breakfast 5 out of 10
Bacon is a British breakfast food because it makes much more sense than steak.
Not actually a big deal, I could technically start again in ten minutes. Admittedly a minor faff to scroll through my gallery and find photos without a toddler photobombing but I’m ready to make that commitment. It does delete all conversations and matches, so if I get dumped I will have to start fresh…but that is definitely no hardship. It is probably a bit weird to pop up in someone’s DMs after 9 months like ‘hey…so I’m single and can’t be bothered swiping again, how about it? 🙋🏼♀️’.
Note that I put ‘if I get dumped’. Partially because I’m a bit of a pessimist and always half feel like I could get surprise dumped out of nowhere any minute. And also because I’m aware quitting things is not my strong point.
I remember one metaphor where someone was trying to justify their cheating by saying some people get off the sinking ship early doors and hop on the little dingy and have a shit time in the cold for bit – other people wait for a better ship to come by and jump straight over.
And there are people like me…
(to any non-Titanic fans, this is me going down with the ship)
Just a quick post for anyone who is visiting and wondered where the last 150 posts had disappeared to.
Yesterday I googled my name and it linked here, annoyingly straight to a blog titled poo-nado…not my finest piece of writing. It was quite literally shit.
I always thought my tiny blog would be really hard to find, when I started I would Google an exact title of a blog post I’d written with the words ‘Emily Bea and me’ and it was nowhere in the top few search pages. I felt like I could freely pour out details of my car crash emotional life / unnecessary vagina info / requests for things to be shoved up my bum during childbirth and it was all good fun because the only people reading it came from my ‘close friends’ list on Instagram.
16,000 hits later I have accidentally boosted my SEO so that my name or even ‘single mum yorkshire’ show the site on the first Google page. I feel a lot less anonymous now and am somewhat questioning my choices on the basis that anyone who knows my name can now find out a whole lot more. Way too much more.
I have the tendency to get a bit ranty. At best my blog may give an embarrassing impression of who I am. At worst I probably seem like a hypocritical, self entitled, whiney, greedy, man hating prick.
I started the blog as a way of pouring my heart out and getting me off mindless Netflix binges. I also thought that any other recently dumped mums may find it and sympathise and maybe feel a bit better like we’re all in this shit boat together (but ten months later I can honestly say I do actually like my boat).
So it was never an Instagram friendly piece of self marketing, but it may have gone a little too far the other way. The site where you go when you’ve had a bad day because it’s always fun to go… ah fuck at least I’m not her.
Anyway I couldn’t bear to delete the whole site so all the posts are now private. Perhaps a bit of a knee jerk reaction and maybe I will post some more or make some of the old posts public again.
But for now thanks for reading. Thanks to all my real life friends who used to check in daily and message me on the days where I was writing particularly crazy stuff.
Even bigger thank you to the darlings who would post cards / chocolate / wine / flowers.
Thank you to my Internet friends who sometimes check in on me even though we’ve never met and I am completely incompetent at basics like replying to messages.
2019 was in many ways a bit of a knob. But also it made me realise how lucky I am to be a woman being supported by other women. Women are fucking brilliant and I’m optimistic that 2020 will also be that.
Emily’s first trip to the beach was SO MUCH FUN. I was a bit worried that going to Aldeburgh beach on what was supposed to be the hottest Easter Sunday on record might be a bit stupid. It turned out to be a wonderful day, not too hot and as you can see it wasn’t too busy. Excellent.
As it’s a rocky beach my very organised sister brought three massive ikea mats to spread down. She also brought a blow up paddling pool and we put another baby mat in and lots of toys to (theoretically) keep the baby from crawling away / choking on pebbles. The rascal only sat in it alone for a couple of minutes but it was still handy if we went with her to avoid pebble negotiations.
I’ve included some Aldeburgh pictures because it was bloody beautiful. Alongside Bamburgh I think it’s my favourite seaside town. As well as the huge beach and pretty painted houses there were some good shops like Joules, Seasalt and L’Occitaine en Provence. Parking was pretty easy with lots of spots right next to the beach. There were lots of cafes, pubs and a gelato shop.
We just chilled on the beach, tried to read magazines (but Emily also wanted to eat them which made life difficult) and ate loads. I even let Emily eat a chip at the end of the day, she loved it the little potato head.