With a little help from my crêpes.

When you’re somewhat blue, for any reason at all, or when the world seems to fall apart, or when there’s nothing new on Netflix and you’re angry with the producers of The Crown because that thing with disparagingly-commenting-on-the-royal-household Jackie and vexed-and-off-to-Ghana Elizabeth was all made up, God bless The Guardian for their investigative journalism, you had almost told anybody you knew you’ve always known what a bitch Jackie was, and now it turns out she wasn’t at all, just the perfectly dressed, stunning little trooper she always was. Anyway, in such moments of humiliation nothing presents a better cure than homemade crêpes, just spread some English orange marmalade (in honour of the Queen) and some Cointreau (in honour of Jackie’s French extraction) on it, no need to flambé, and there you go, again. Trust me.

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