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Life stories

205 years from the birthday of Charles Dickens

205 years ago, on February 7, 1812, was born in Portsmouth, England, John Huff Charles Dickens, an English novelist, known for the 19th-century realism, reflected in his novels. Up to the age of 12, Dickens‘s childhood was peaceful and happy. His family belonged to the nobility and he went to a private school. His father, a bohemian character, was incarcerated in a debtor’s prison. To help his family, Charles was forced to leave school and work ten-hour days at Warren’s Blacking Warehouse, where he earned six shillings a week pasting labels on pots of boot blacking. Read more

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Cookerella

Brunch with bacon and eggs

This is one of the fast recipes. It is simple, but very tasty! There is nothing exquisite in a recipe with bacon, nor sophisticated in eggs with bread.  However, I’m telling you, you are going to do it again 🙂  The combination of soft eggs, bacon and crispy bread is delicious!

The healthier version of this recipe is replacing the bacon with smoked salmon. Unfortunately, my daughter does not eat smoked salmon, only grilled salmon.  For this reason, I used bacon. Read more

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Bookshelf no7

Committed. A love story – Elizabeth Gilbrets

I’m reading at the moment a book about marriage, borrowed from a friend. Among the many existential questions I have or that bothers me to my core, there are some related to marriage. I remember perfectly a day from my teenage years when my mom told me: all marriages seem perfect from the outside, but there is no certainty that after marriage your house will be ever completely peaceful again, all quarrels start when you don’t even think about it, most of them because of different opinions in raising children or how to deal with money.  Read more

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Bookshelf no7

Love letters from great and women – Ursula Doyle

“You will not believe what a longing for you possesses me. The chief cause of this is my love and then we have not grown used to be apart. So it comes to pass that I lie awake a great part of the night, thinking of you; and that by day, when the hours return at which I was wont to visit you, my feet take me, as it is so truly said, to your chamber, but not finding you there I return, sick and sad at heart, like an excluded lover.” Read more

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