HeyJaredElizabeth’s Substack
Cooking, making, thinking, discussing and writing about being, with a strong leaning toward food and the how's, whys and what fors of it all.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 9
- Latest publication
- Sep 26, 2026
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- Jul 14, 2026
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Week Two (opens the original)
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This was written yesterday, Friday 25th September. Today I feel more or less ok and will be the helpmeet that the American deserves.Almost 2 weeks in as a shop keeper and I am lying down in bed with a hot water bottle. It’s not that the shop is too much for me, it’s that my body has just caught up with the fact that the season is changing and so it must be time to get a sore throat, ear ache and the miserere of tinnitus on steroids. Ah well, we all got our problems. So that left the American to
A week in the life of Betty Shopkeeper (opens the original)
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One week of Rookery Books in the bag. The American has gone off to a bookseller’s gathering somewhere in the hinterlands. I would have gone with him except I didn’t want to. He gets to eat junk food on the motorway and not have to listen to why my egg sandwich really isn’t up to much.I am a shop keeper. According to the Bodlean “A shopkeeper may serve clients at a counter and carry out other duties such as taking customer payments, giving change, helping customers, and wrapping gifts and purch
inching head above parapet just briefly (opens the original)
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Warning - ranty sweary post ahead. Do not read if likely to offended by either. You will be rewarded by a little food note at the end.I may have mentioned, I am opening a bookshop. By I mean we, as in me and my husband. Whenever I correct that in my head to, a la my father, my husband and I, I squirm slightly and wonder if people think I am liking myself to old queenie. At this point this article (substack’s current name for these posts) could go anywhere but just to be clear I hold no royal amb
Libraries (opens the original)
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I grew up with books, books everywhere. My Mum wrote books, read them, read to me and to all of us children. We were divided into age groups, us little ones getting Mrs Molesworth and her stories of Carrots, a little boy with red hair or Three Children and It, the older ones had my Dad reading David Copperfield or The Hobbit. We had book shelves stuffed with books, we all read, it was a given. My favourite books were the Andrew Lang coloured fairy books, collected and translated from all over th
Postcard from le Dordogne (opens the original)
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I left Paris’s heat haze in an air conditioned train. French trains are a marvel. Clean, on time, comfortable seats (so unlike the misery of GWR), full but not rammed, air conditioned on but not freezing you to death à la America, fast, efficient. French station food is however just as disappointing as British, it just looks better.Our train was booked to Bordeaux which had been our original destination. Due to the wild fires in that area we had decided to stay away and plumped to visit the smal
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