Monday, August 19, 2024

Bales, passion and herbs.

1. Between songs, someone gets up and our friend pats the space next to her. I take the spot, enjoying the smell of hay, as well as the music and the company.

2. We arrive towards the end of the market, and the rum distiller has a very tired face -- but he still summons all of his enthusiasm and passion to tell us why his local product (made with smoky woodchips, with all the sugar turned to alcohol) is better than the alternatives we could buy in the supermarket.

3. With a large knife, chopping herbs from the garden into damp green fragments.

As needed, forgotten cake and syrup.

1. I promised myself I wouldn't moan and grumble about it -- but I do. And as if by magic, a very kind friend produces the required blaz...