#petit pot

[lame-dame11]

These little rice pudding jars ended up being the cutest lil jars to store bud in.

I also LOVE that it's called Petit Pot and I store pot on it. Heheh VERY fitting. 😉

[marines-factory]

[DIY] Baby-Shower (1/?)

Première activité d'une baby shower surprise : la récupération des petits-pots !

Depuis l’arrivée de ma truffe, trouver le temps pour mes besoins vitaux est devenu compliqué. Alors autant dire que trouver le temps pour mes envies créatives relève de l’exploit pur. Mon atelier “rénové” avec amour prend la poussière, mon plan de travail sur mesure déborde de papiers en tous genres car cette pièce est maintenant plus un débarras de la maison plutôt que mon atelier créatif.

Ma…

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[bergamotefamily]

Happylal Baby : petits plats Halal pour bébé !

Happylal Baby : petits plats Halal pour bébé !

Les nouvelles marques de petits plats pour bébé sont de plus en plus nombreuses. Et certaines se démarquent très vite, comme Happylal Baby : des petits plats fabriqués en France et dont la viande est homologuée Halal. Une vraie alternative pour les familles musulmanes qui souhaitent proposer à bébé un repas de qualité respectant tant l’équilibre alimentaire que les valeurs culturelles.

La gamme…

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[appleme-club]

就是愛零食。小罐子點心舖巨峰蘭姆葡萄奶油餅

我不是一個喜歡呼朋引伴揪逛街的查某人（按：女人）！比較孤僻點的我比較喜歡自己一個人無拘束的逛街

然後，我喜歡在逛街中，發現有趣的可愛的新玩意兒，或是聞香買到好吃的料理或是甜點等

永康街商圈，就是能發現有趣可愛小玩意＆聞香買到好吃食物＆兼溜一下小孩的好逛好吃好喝好玩的商圈

我家的小么女雖然很宅！但偶爾也會心血來潮陪我到處逛逛，果然星座相同有差～

某一次我們悠閒晃到永康街，路旁有正妹在發新店開張宣傳DM，還說只要到舖子裹打卡按讚，就送小禮物

打卡按讚就有小禮物可以拿，勤儉持家好主婦當然不能錯過這等好康事呀

小罐子點心舖PETIT POT是2014年11月開幕的舖子。就在永康公園旁COCO都可茶飲巷子內。滿容易找到的

點心舖小小間的，但裝潢的頗有質感。沒有內用的座位，應該只提供外帶服務？！

販售的甜點以法式蛋糕、瑪德蓮、餅乾、塔派類、手工巧克力和法式水果軟糖為主

開幕試賣期間有提供試吃～我們…

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[anaixellentbarceloner-blog]

Better Very Very Late Than Not At All.

Oh good golly gosh I am so sorry for being the worst blogger the world has ever seen. I only just saw that the last one was from Easter. Joanna, you warned me, but I didn't listen. 

So I can't remember all the little things that happened since then, other than spending a HUGE amount of time in my favourite cafe. If you follow me on Instagram, you know aaaaall about it. So I'm going to have to cut it down to the three big things that have happened; camping, Italy and the visit from the Queen of Adventure - Amy Searle. Which sounds like more than enough. 

We went camping a few weeks ago in Tossa de Mar with Lucy and Tori (I always presume that you know the 'we' refers to Beth and me - we've been doing it our entire lives and only recently realised that strangers think we're impersonating the Queen and using the royal 'we'). It was hands down the easiest and loveliest camping trip I've ever done, mostly because it didn't rain, and despite some planning issues and chopping and changing of numbers, when it actually came to it, it was so simple. Tori and Lucy got there a few hours before us and picked the best pitch in the place - it had a view of the sea through the trees and was conveniently close to the loos etc. Unlike most campsites I've been at before, this one was actually as good as it looked online, whereas in England we've learnt to take campsite names with an enormous pinch of salt. My favourite one was 'Sea View' near Sennen, that was shrouded in fog the entire time and not once did we see the sea. Also, you can trust the weather here to be good even if it's bad. The forecast said there would be light rain the day we arrived, but we drove through it and spent the rest of the weekend in uninterrupted sunshine. In stark contrast, when Charlie and I went camping a few years ago, the weather forecast ALSO said light rain, but it was the optimistic English version of a weather forecast, so we ended up getting washed out and carrying a carful of soggy camping stuff for 2 miles in the rain and went home early. 

So basically, if you want to camp and come out unscarred, go abroad. You also get to hang out on beaches like this:

Pretty good, eh?

The first night was still pretty awful (because whoever decides the recommended number of people for tents is either Danny DeVito or on crack) and I woke up about 4 times with my face actually against the tent with no space to even roll over. This lead to the first time I ever fell asleep on the beach, and I spent most of the day in a knackered trance, flopped on the sand, alternating between food, sleep, swimming and ice creams. It's not the worst way to get over bad sleep. 

That night, we had an epiphany for how to sleep better - wine. We got a barbecue, a ton of food, and a 3-litre box of wine. As you can imagine, it worked an absolute treat after a day in the sun, and before you know it, we were stargazing, eating and playing 'Nunca, nunca he...' which is a direct and terrible sounding translation of 'Never Have I Ever'. During this game we got some terrible nicknames ('Titless', 'Butt-Nibbler' and 'Screamer') and sang God Save the Queen whenever anyone needed to wee. Our quiet, outdoorsy camping neighbours must have loved us. Having said that, we did only stay up til about 11. HARDCORE CAMPING YOUTHS.

We managed to sleep about 5 hours longer than the previous night, and felt far more human for it. We packed all of our stuff up like absolute pros (read- no wet stuff therefore actually easy peasy). We left it at the reception after paying, then went back to the beach. It was just PERFECTION. All we could really talk about was how much we loved it and how little we wanted to go back to the city that day. But alas, we had to, so at about 6, after a dip in the pool and a taxi ride into town, we were back on the bus to Barca. I'm going back there one day. Just come up to me and say 'Tossa de Mar?' and I'll start planning. I would make the code word 'Tossa', but I don't want to accidentally take you on holiday if you were actually trying to insult me.

SO! Onwards on the train of excitement! Two weekends later we found ourselves jetting off to Trieste to see all of Beth's friends from last term. The last time I went to Trieste, the weather was bloody miserable, so I was hoping that it would be far nicer and free of the Bora (a nasty wind that makes being outside more like dare material than a nice idea.) We got a late flight, and it was only after a half an hour delay that we realised that we might not be able to get the train to Trieste that night if the last one had already gone. (Mum, bear in mind that everything was fine in the end and we're intrepid explorers, ok?) We got into the airport and I tried to get onto the 20 minutes of free Wifi that most airports have so I could check the train times and catch the bus into Mestre to get it. But of course, Venice airport doesn't have free Wifi, so we had to call Beth's friend Michela (a.k.a. our guardian angel) using all of my Spanish credit to find out everything. Turns out that if we'd got straight off the flight, got on a bus/taxi and headed to the train station, there was one we could have caught, but spending the time finding this out meant that we couldn't any more. Which was a delightful feeling. Michela and Luca then spent ages looking up hostels for us in Mestre (the inland town closest to Venice where all the non-millionaires live) whilst we tried to figure out if the airport was open all night in case we had to sleep there (it wasn't.)

In the end, at about midnight, we ended up in a creepy little B&B in Mestre that was at least cheap and had walls, which was all we wanted really. Panic averted.

We got up early the next morning so we wouldn't have lost too much time with our unexpected detour and rushed to the train station. Our sleepiness got the better of us though, and I was in the queue with our breakfasts when Beth told me we had about three minutes to get on the train. Food was abandoned and we ran for the train. It was only when we got settled in our seats that Beth realised she hadn't validated our tickets, so it was entirely possible that we would get fined, despite having paid for the tickets minutes earlier. This is the wonderfully Italian tradition of selling tickets that you can use whenever you like, but therefore have to get them stamped before catching the train. They put the machines in the main part of the station but not on the platforms, so if you're late for whatever reason (LIKE BREAKFAST) you have the choice of having a validated ticket but missing the train, or getting on the train with a ticket that isn't valid.

So we had a tense 2 hours pretending to be asleep and trying to decide whether Beth should try and sweet talk the conductor in Italian or I should do the talking in English and claim ignorance. Thankfully I think he walked past us, so we got away with it. Which annoys me, because we paid for them - we weren't even trying to get away with anything! 

We eventually got to Trieste and the fun began. We went to Castello Miramare (where we went with Trystan last time), Ginger for tea and cake and swam in the sea with Flavia;

We also went to two parties; one was a house party for a guy called Alessandro's 21st and the next night was the opening of a club's summer season. Despite not knowing anyone I had a really good time at both, up until the point where some awful little creep at the bar in the club thought that he was allowed to touch us up. I don't know what he imagined would come of it, but in the end he just got slapped twice and no action. He would have had a broken finger if I'd caught it, but I'd been stupid enough to believe that I could get a drink without that kind of shit happening. It makes me fume just thinking about it, so I'll move on. 

We got back to Beth's old flat at about 4 and the others fell asleep straight away, but I got a message from one of the good guys, Benji, and ended up chatting to him til past 5am. It was just what was needed to stop feeling like I wanted to cry and/or hunt down and castrate a small Italian guy. 

Before we started travelling back to Spain, we got one last meal made for us by Michela and the last of the tiramisu that Luca made after hearing that I'd never tried it before. I'll just say now, thanks to Mr Razlen and Ms. Piersimoni for putting us up and entertaining us for so long! 

The very next day, after an inconvenient Spanish Language test, we got to see our bestie AMY after what felt like years apart.

The poor thing had had a horrible journey herself and hadn't slept in 35 hours, so we just headed to the beach and made the most of what would be the only sun for the whole week. We ordered Thai in and watched Friends that evening so we could get a good amount of sleep and have a more exciting day the next day. 

Tuesday ended up being hilarious as we went to El Barri Gotic for breakfast in Milk (they do a stonking fry up) then wandered around and went in the cute/hipster shops along Carrer Avinyó. Half of them had things we really really wanted and the other half were so hilariously bad that we played dress up and messed about for hours. Beth was once again the queen of the model face and others:

After that we took Amy to Petit Pot to meet Andy, help him translate the menu into English and get cake, which was a total hit. I think that the cafe is Amy's new favourite place and Amy is Andy's new favourite person. We got all of our drinks and cake for free just for helping him make the menu sound properly English, and the pleasure of his company too! It was a good afternoon.

That night we went to the scene of the Aixois crime for dinner - Rabipelao in Gracia. We met up with Anna, Lucy, Tori, Shoshi and Tori's housemate and had burgers and cocktails (they were 2 for 1 and very delicious - a dangerous equation...) and had a lovely time. Thankfully this time we stopped after about 3 cocktails rather than 5, and we caught the tube home instead of a taxi full of sleepy and/or ill young'uns. 

Beth had uni on Wednesday, so I got Amy aaaall to myself for the afternoon, and we wondered around markets and Barceloneta with the vague aim of finding her a new ring. The sun came out for a while, and we stopped down by the port to sunbathe as best we could with jeans on. 

The next morning we went back to Petit Pot to have breakfast before Amy's flight and get a photo of us all together, taken by our fave, Andy. He took such a liking to her that he gave her a little package of biscuits to take with her on her travels and begged her not to leave. At which point we were all like this:

All too soon the beautiful Miss Searle was off, and with that the sun came out and stayed out for days. It was SO unlucky that we had a full rainy three days in the exact time she was here. Since then Beth and I have been swimming and sunbathing to no end. Thank you for coming Amy! I'm looking forward to seeing an awful lot of you this summer!

And that, my dears, brings you up to date with the happenings here in Barcelona. Nothing much else has been on - I'm getting even worse at going to uni, which the sun doesn't help one bit. I'm also slowly getting close to insanity with the mosquitoes in my room. Picture me with my Short Cornish Dictionary (the perfect mosquito eradication tool) standing on the bed with bloodshot eyes, a terrified dog at my feet and a stream of swear words directed at the mostly invisible insects that woke me up at 4am, and you're still not close to how crackpot, batshit mental I both feel and look. Especially because I wear short/no pyjamas due to the heat, but long socks because I'm damned if they're going to make me cry from foot bites like in France. Send help. I'm losing it.

A bientôt mes amis,

Megs

[tusaisquetuesparent-blog]

Tu as l'impression de mentir en faisant une mine réjouie et en t'écriant "miam miam" devant l'assiette d'épinards que tu t'apprêtes à donner à bébé...