Drag houses and chosen families

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I write this from the Sainsbury’s car park. E is asleep in the back with her head flopped forward like an off-duty string puppet. J is doing the supermarket shopping and I am here sweltering in the passenger seat listening to Harry’s House - an album so easy on the ears you can forget it’s been on repeat for hours.  One of the songs includes the lyrics ‘hash brown, egg yolk, I will always love you’.  Back in my party days I met Harry Styles at some swanky fashion bash and we had a conversation about chicken nuggets.  I’m surprised he’s not written a song about it tbh. 

Me with Harry Styles and David Gandy (the less said about him the better)

This week, I have been dealing with my daughter’s new obsession - a Sylvanian house. She has arranged its minuscule contents in a very particular way and I am not to touch it. It is in the middle of the sitting room floor and CANNOT BE MOVED. It is like living next to a  land mine as every time I walk past it I’m terrified I’ll knock it, and trust me if one of the tiny books is not in the exact place she left it I will be in big trouble. 

There’s a TikTok called Sylvaniadrama