This evening, I made one of my very favourite Parisian dishes.

Generally off the menu but still to be found at many bistros around the capital. A vintage rustic dish from the mid 1800s, takes a little patience but is generally simple to prepare if you can source the fresh ingredients, especially locally.

However, when you get a chance to visit Paris and one of its many eateries find a waiter (a Garçon) and whisper “forêt de poulet avec pommes de terre et poivre” into his ear. You will be greeted with a warm smile and a majestic meal you’ll never forget.

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We are awaiting IKEA delivery.

Apparently their car broke down and the courier has been calling with updates SINCE 7 FUCKING 30 AM THIS MORNING…..every fucking hour…and at the same time contractors are here installing new tiles next door….which literally feels like someone is boinking me on the head with a rubber mallet.

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I love my “western style”coffee shop.

They are so fucking nice here, drives me up the wall!!!

It always smells so nice here and it’s ALWAYS so clean, you could not find a mosquito leg anywhere. Just hospital level spotless.

I’ve never actually had coffee here…one day I will get my bitch ass out of the house before noon and have something fancy.

Maybe with caramels….

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