Love isn’t just a four letter word

As bloggers we do present a carefully curated version of
our lives to the world. We choose to share the passions we adore, sun
drenched plates of deliciousness and smiling photos of happy moments. Sadder moments, frustrated escapades and imperfect arrangements often escape the publish button, but they are there – after all our lives are real.

Blogging communities can often be intense, precious and fleetingly close. Bread broken, laughter at crypticly obscure references and the clink of wine classes, all as normal restaurant goers look on in laughter. It can also be sneaking into the kitchens to play chef behind the benches, drinking red wine until the waiters join you and calling chicken to all of the early leavers.

A bright light of the London foodie community has been extinguished too early. Enjoying several evenings knife and fork in hand together was enough to have created soft memories of a bright laugh, wicked sense of humour, unexplored skill with a camera and a quiet melancholy.

We’re a disparate lot bloggers; a medley of opinion, introverts armed with a keyboard, a melting pot of culture and a cluster of honed tastebuds exploring the city one plate at a time. But, we’re empassioned, adore twisting the written word into passages of gourmet chiascuro, delighting in much, disliking pairings of flavours based on childhood memories and touch each others lives in incredible, subtle ways.

Please, do something for me. Call a friend that you haven’t
spoken to in a while, hug your family and treat yourself to a moment of
luxury. If you’re unhappy, please don’t hesitate to ask for help – ladies, men, everyone.

We need to remember. We need to celebrate. We need to love. 

(I’ve disabled comments intentionally, it just doesn’t seem right today.)

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