Even the roof was sinking into a major depression.
(Photo: Mark Giglio; Dwell)
Even the roof was sinking into a major depression.
(Photo: Mark Giglio; Dwell)
Oh and it’s fucked me off something chronic that everyone now loves Alice. Shurrup foos. Read the book then come back to me
Live a right simple life, live in a loft, own a basset hound named Dinah, have antiques and spend all my money on clothes, lomography and vinyl.
Oh and I’d have a bike like this 
Brilliant
He’d spent years cultivating a perfectly messy study. So to find that someone had stuffed a red volume on the umber-only bookshelves? Well, the proverbial shit hit the fan.
(Photo: Dave Lauridsen; Dwell April 2010)
Getting nervous for Glitterboy’s upcoming recital. Scary stuff!
Yoghurt time.
Although, I can’t help but I wish I was french.
It was hard to tell if social networking had instilled an instinct to compulsively pose, or if there was actually a photographer at the end of the living room.
(Photo: Mark Steinmertz; Dwell, September 2003)
Happy Pancake Day.
Alas I cannot enjoy it, caught the sicky sicky from Glitterboy. Nana won’t let round for pancakes, therefore none for me.
Gutted.
Happy Valentines Glitter boy. I love you lots.
And lots.
And lots.
And lots.
I would celebrate Valentines today, like every other couple, but alas tragedy strikes Beatlebum Island, Glitterboy went down with some sicky. Was up all night sicking up. Nasty stuff. Instead we’ll celebrate it in style on an odd day.
Whoever is celebrating it today is a square.
