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Walking Over Haddon in The Peak District

I confess I'm a fair weather walker, which means I often want to walk on our holidays, but whether we go is always dependent on the weather. I have a Goretex jacket but it's like a talisman. I own it, but I don't want to wear it and I hope vainly that just by having spent so much on it an schlepping it with me that it's going to ward off the rain! As you can see my travel planning involves a good deal of "magical thinking!" In California our cultural exuberance (paired with low standards) means we shamelessly call anything a "hike"  - as if we've scaled Everest in an afternoon. Here in England I'm not sure I even qualify as a "walker" because that denotes a level of seriousness I've failed at previously. Minimally it means you're wearing boots  and have an Ordnance Survey map (and possibly a compass) in your back pocket. I guess I'm more of stroller to be honest and I've blogged about my strolls all over the world; m…

Italian Pastries

I've always said that I'm not a fan of Italian desserts but it seems I'm being won over to the pastries in every shape and form. It started innocently enough on our first morning when D. returned to the flat with a Tortine di Pistacchi from Roscioli - the famous bakery on our street. Or perhaps it started when I picked a flat on a street right next to a famous bakery!
Within days I was digging into fresh amaretti and the similar brutti ma buoni made from hazelnuts, pictured on the right below. They are deliciously crispy and sugary on the outside and crack in your mouth to reveal a softer nutty center, delicious.
This morning D. brought me a Sicilian doughnut for breakfast and I ate it before I thought to photograph it, that how delicious it was! It seemed too sad to photograph the bag it came in! I want to be discerning, to know whether I'm eating regional specialities or traditional Roman confections, but the truth is I'm just pointing, purchasing and eating. It's not as if the cookie cares whether I turn it into an intellectual exercise or not. So here we are eating our way through Rome one biscuit at a time.


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