Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Nicola seems simultaneously frazzled, and entirely nonchalant about the baby shower that she put so much work into. The sandwiches she made, the flower arrangements, drinks, sweets, the cake that literally looks like a baby bursting forth from a buttercream vagina, complete with doll head and raspberry afterbirth, all speak of an obsessive level of detail.
She leans up against the bar, drink in hand, and surveys her work.
"Well, the one woman gave me a look and asked if I thought the cake was 'appropriate,' but I just told her, 'Yeah, I think it is,'" she says, rolling her eyes in disdain.