I can't vote.

Well, that would be the case if I wasn't going home this evening.

Turns out that, even though I sent my form off on time, I'm not registered here in Newcastle as well as in Leeds. Ach! So, after a brief conversation with a severely brusque woman on the phone at Newcastle Council, it became apparent that there was "nothing we can do two days before the election" (i.e. "what do you expect me to do, you stupid, disorganised girl"). So, I've decided to go home today so I can vote tomorrow.

Why bother? Well because, cheesy as it sounds, women in the past went through a tad more than an inconvenient train journey in order to give me the privilege. So, off I shall go back to Leeds - which actually will be lovely because I can see my family - and off to the polling booth tomorrow to put a big fat cross in the box. And I shall relish the thought of women in 18th century outfits grinning as I take the pen in my hand.

the joy of enchiladas

Who knew?! How have I lived this long without trying them?!

Sure, I've had fajitas, but these are like fajitas and then some. They're like juiced-up fajitas drizzled in sunshine. I think they may become a regular in the goshkate household. Cannot fail to be a winner.

here comes the sun (please)

I am waiting for the summer, patiently. Despite being a self-confessed autumn-girl, I have to admit summer seems to be holding back a little this year.

I find myself looking wistfully out of the window, and holding my breath as I open the curtain every morning. Will there be blue skies? We've had some sunny days of late, and it's been gorgeous.

It's just one of those things - you don't realise what a difference the weather makes, until the sun is blazing and you're walking along with an inexplicable grin on your face.

It's in that in-between stage - too cool to wear flip flops, too warm to wear tights. That first brave day when I decide that it's time to bare my legs to the world is yet to come. I'll keep you posted.