Posts

Venison, training and looking up.

1. There are venison steaks to look forward to at lunch. 2. We are very brave and together try a bit of stand-up comedy training. The session is so fully of silly games and so much like play that we almost forget our fear. 3. It's a clear night, well supplied with cold and distant stars.

Christmas theme, the visitor and winter sunshine in a jar.

Image
1. At coffee time there are gingerbread chocolate digestives, which are surprisingly good. 2. My eldest has been off sick for a few days. I have to shake and pull him awake at teatime: his friend has called round with a bag of Doritos to cheer him up and is waiting awkwardly on the sofa, all puffy coat and long legs. 3. I open the jar of steeped apricots that I made a few weeks back with Anna. It's like a glass of winter sunshine -- very sweet and cheering and bracing. It's a Nigel Slater recipe and in the preamble, he talks about making a welcoming drink for oneself, not just for guests, and it seems like a good self-care approach.

Out, last item and risk.

1. I'm very glad to be out as it's such a fine morning. The storm has stripped the trees and soaked the grounds. It looks and feels like winter. 2. Ticking off the last item on my checklist and sending the final email.  3. I took a risk; it didn't work out. But it's only Monopoly, and another £200 will be along in a minute.

Under this roof, saffron and raspberry puree.

1. To hear the wind striking the house broadside but I know I am safe within these walls. 2. Opening the jar of saffron -- the new shoes scent. 3. Raspberry puree drips through a sieve. I can wait: supper is a long way off.

Handwarmers, first snow and sparkling wine.

1. Bettany's bag of handwarmers has a satisfying heft to it on this cold, cold morning. I offer her an extra for the way home. 2. While we are drinking coffee, the winter's first snow starts to fall. There's nothing to it, really, and it leaves us without settling. 3. I don't think we knew that's what we wanted when we set out in search of wedding anniversary lunch -- but when we're offered sparkling wine, it seems exactly right.

Early hours, advent biscuits and shedding.

1. At one point, in the early hours, I have both children in bed with me. I warm my back on whatever it is they came looking for in the cooling dark. 2. Two heavy parcels arrive for the children: a godfather has sent advent biscuits. 3. When I open the door to put boxes out, I find the front garden is blanketed with drifts of lemon-yellow fallen stars, and I can see the cold sky stars through the acer's bare branches.

Petit dej, familiar name and never-ending chore.

1. Showing Bettany how French children have petit dej -- a piece of yesterday's baguette with chocolate spread dipped in a bowl of cocoa. 2. Seeing a familiar name on the list of editors for a project I'm joining. 3. I hear Nick open and close the laundry bin before remarking that there isn't much in it. This is because I've kept on top of the washing while he was away.