Monday, November 04, 2013

Lunch done, sliced bread and too tired.

1. To go downstairs to breakfast knowing that I cooked the main part of our lunch yesterday (and stashed a lot of extra portions in the freezer, too).

2. "...and of course," my father said a long time ago in answer to one of my infant enquiries, "the irony is that sliced bread is not great at all." He was thinking of the really cheap plasticky supermarket bread that goes mouldy before it is stale. A good loaf passed through the baker's bread slicer is a thing of beauty and convenience.

3. It is late and although I am ready for bed I am so tired that I can't bear to move myself and the sleep-heavy Bettany from the sofa. Then Alec calls from the top of the stairs so I have no choice.

Escape, tulips and samosa.

1. This morning, I'm piling into a car with friends to escape into the Weald, where we will visit a garden planted with 45,000 tulips. 2...