Bloody hell, it really is Christmas. I have a repeated nightmare that’s based around Christmas. The big day suddenly comes into being without any prior warning. Everybody has shopped and planned without me and I sit down to lunch, faced with boiled carrots because I wasn’t there to patronise everybody on the fact that roasted carrotsContinue reading “Mint cream chocolate biscuits”
Author Archives: Alice Mulhearn Williams
Coming home
There is the Christmas tree shining into the grey lane. Home is warm and carpeted, with bedside lamps turned on, as always. When I was a child the gentle slump of the car in the drive would always be a bit of a bother. “We’re home.” I’d be half asleep in the backseat, sighing inContinue reading “Coming home”
Thinking about bus stops (and omelettes)
I’m not convinced that a recipe for an omelette should be preluded by a musing on bus stops and illustrated with photos of an autumnal UCL campus, but I’m doing it anyway. It’s odd to think about all of the bus stops I’ve stood at during my life. The first one of my adolescence wasn’tContinue reading “Thinking about bus stops (and omelettes)”
Minestrone
The first summer I spent au pairing was, in many ways, torturous. For two months I was trapped behind a façade of my own design: I was in love with Italy, I was the perfect nanny, I was happy. Except I wasn’t. I don’t know whether my regret at the whole thing is visibleContinue reading “Minestrone”
Day Twenty One: Seattle.
The rain has re-joined us. There’s nothing like a grey motel on a grey motorway to lift the spirits. By the time we reach Downtown Seattle my shoes are flooded and no amount of lingering in the Klondlike Gold Rush museum is going to help our cause. The trek to Pike Place Market proves thatContinue reading “Day Twenty One: Seattle.”
Day Twenty: The Final City.
This time around Portland greets us with furious rain. Its probably a good thing we’re not staying long. Taunesha bids us farewell and I promise that our next reunion will be on halfway between London and Portland, probably in New York. A sobering thought. Blue skies by the time we reach Seattle. The bus dropsContinue reading “Day Twenty: The Final City.”
Day Nineteen: Timberline Lodge
The day starts with a kitchen full of people and dogs slumped beside the stove. We douse our French toast and bacon with syrup and plan a day of Oregon exploration. A drawn out farewell to the resident dogs, cats and horses. Just like my eight year-old self in the hamster department of Pets AtContinue reading “Day Nineteen: Timberline Lodge”
Day Eighteen: Crossing The Columbia River.
We follow the river, away from the shadowed roads of Glenwood towards the dry hillsides of Southern Washington. The Maryhill museum is a little oasis of Russian iconography and Auguste Rodin sculpture. There’s a short interval for Oregon wine tasting and then we cross the Columbia River. Back on Oregon soil. With a 30% HispanicContinue reading “Day Eighteen: Crossing The Columbia River.”
Day Seventeen: You’ve just gotta get back on the horse.
We saddle up and head into Washington country. The first stop is a barn two miles from the farmhouse to check on the cattle’s salt supply. The land is flanked by tree covered hills, Mt. Adams looms to the North and the horses move noiselessly across the dry ground. Suddenly, the dogs set off, onContinue reading “Day Seventeen: You’ve just gotta get back on the horse.”
Day Sixteen: Towards Mt. Hood
We pass a string of homeless men on Burnside as we trek to Voodoo doughnuts. I’ve never seen quite so many destitute people in one city, but as Hattie reminds me, I’ve never been to San Francisco. We eat the best doughnuts, filled with Bavarian cream and coated in chocolate. There’s a definite smell ofContinue reading “Day Sixteen: Towards Mt. Hood”
To The Table 