Blogfest last year was my first ever big blogging event. As I descended the escalator into the hall full of people I half recognised from Twitter I thought: Shit! I’ve made a terrible mistake. Fast forward 12 months and there I was gliding down the escalator into a hall full of people I actually knew and this […]
Whilst I am loathe to stoke the flames of this discussion which kicked off at the recent Mumsnet Blogfest I do feel there is a point I need to address.
Exactly what jam related activities are acceptable feminist activities?
Personally I’m not overly concerned about not being able to make jam. Who the fuck makes jam anyway?
Even jam factories don’t make jam any more it’s all compotes and jellies and shit these days.
My other half once bought Seville marmalade oranges at the supermarket and tried to cover up his mistake by saying he thought I might like to make marmalade.
I Googled a recipe and was shocked to discover preserve making involves a lot of time, effort and vats of boiling sugar. I am not a woman who should be left in charge of pans of boiling sugar, I flail my arms around. A lot.
I’m also easily distracted. This post was meant to be about jam. Or feminism. Not marmalade.