Dear December six, seven, eight: they didn’t believe it wasn’t butter

I think I confused a few commuters this morning by eating yoghurt out of an old butter container. (Butter carton? Butter tub? Unsure of the exact name for this butter-holding-receptacle. Anyway, I'd washed it out because it's a good size for transporting things. And ps. isn’t tub a funny word?).

It was Greek yoghurt with honey which meant it was quite thick and creamy with the faintest golden hue. It did look a bit like butter, it’s true. I didn’t let their sidelong glances deter me though (to be honest: there was only one other person on the bus, and she was reading a book). I tucked in.

(Once I got the thought into my head though that ‘this actually does taste a bit like butter’, it was hard to get that thought out. I even feel like I can taste it now, hours later – salty, chilled, creamy – on the curve of my tongue. 

Gross.)

♥

A side note on butter: I am trying to be frugal, living by myself in the city and all. It’s a practice run for my possible future as a poor writer in a leaking garret somewhere, surrounded by dozens of cats (only please, Lord, no cats. I had a nightmare the other week that my flatmates got kittens. An actual nightmare). It turns out though, if that is to be my life, that garret will have to be well stocked with Lurpak Slightly Salted and Twinnings Earl Grey (preferably decaf) because I’m apparently a butter and tea snob and these items are non-compromise-able. (Confession: The number of items on my ‘no compromising grocery list’ does seem to be growing somewhat, which makes me worry slightly about what kind of person that makes me.) 

♥ 

I had plans to write something slightly more profound today: but there are still 23 days left in December ...and I really just wrote this post for the title (badoom tsh). On a food related note though, you should read this fantastic essay on celery by A.A. Milne. 

Song a day:

Sunday: The End of the Affair by Ben Howard (I've been listening to Ben Howard a lot this year - and, like I was saying about Dustin Tebutt's music, I suspect when I listen to him in the future I'll be able to hear this year in the sound of his voice - but for some reason I only just realised he has more than one album. This is from 'I Forget Where We Were') 

Monday: When the Leaves by Ingrid Michaelson (for something vaguely Christmassy).

Today: To Build a Home by The Cimematic Orchestra (because I listened to it while I was waking up this morning).