The everyday blog of Richard Bartle.
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4:32pm on Tuesday, 19th December, 2017:
My younger daughter invited two of her friends round last night and they made French onion soup. As a result, the house smells of onions.
It's not just the house, either: it's everything in the house. It's pervaded anything porous, and adhered to anything non-porous. It's not a great smell, either.
Still, I'm nevertheless quite pleased. It means the house no longer smells of the bacon I cooked last week that filled the air so much I probably didn't even need to eat the next day, I could just have breathed in all the calories I needed.
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