I meant to try a recipe from Faster Ingeborgs anteckningsbok yesterday — but the day disappeared before I got to the kitchen. Instead I ended up at the library to spend some time with one of my former art students. She has moved to England is but is visiting her family this week.
My taste in books is so odd that when the library want to get rid of books nobody borrows — or nobody wants to buy, they ask if I want them. So I came home with two autobiographies. Both are written in Swedish by women, one born in 1870 and the other in 1914 — both are unknown to me. I have to admit that I'd rather spend the day reading but I have some ingredients that will walk out of the fridge by themselves unless I use them today. So I'm off to the kitchen.
The disturbing popularity of The Sheik
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