Provisioning day, for doctor things, home improvement things, and grocery things.
That’s a lot of driving, though you’d never think it, because there’s no more than seven miles between each point. When you factor in an RTA somewhere in central Swansea and a resulting diversion, though, and a lot of traffic, you’re talking about losing a whole day to the venture without too much trouble.
By the time we got to the supermarket, our last call, I was getting to be just a little rebellious.
“I’m hungry,” I announced. ”I need food. And it’s way past lunch time.”
“You’re always hungry these days.”
“Well, duh! I’m on a diet, as you constantly remind me. Isn’t being on a diet just another word for being perpetually hungry?”
“Sometimes I worry about you. OK, then, let’s go see what they have in the way of healthy eating in the restaurant.”
Even I wouldn’t describe sausage and mash as healthy eating but the servings were child-size, so only a minimum of damage done.
“I promise I’ll not lapse again until next week,” I said.
“I warn you, I fully intend to hold you to that.”
Oh, but it was a real treat and, honestly, I am content to wait a week before I can have another similar good thing to eat, even if it does have to come in a child-size serving.
Except… I think Graham wants some bits from IKEA next week, and there’s no way even he would expect me to go to IKEA without an IKEA breakfast. Don’t tell him, though, or he’ll insist we take a packed meal with us. Something along the lines of a sawdust sandwich, no doubt.
By the time we’d finished all our errands it was more or less the end of daylight hours and I got no more than a tiny nap before it was time to settle down for the evening. I watched a repeat of Merlin, and Graham continued his search for the optimum hi-fi amplifier to go with last week’s optimum speakers. He hides previous generation and failed experiments away in the loft where I can’t see it. It must look like a second-hand hi-fi shop up there by now, with at least four full-blown systems.
He says it’s all fine, and that it’ll all fetch a good sum on eBay when he gets to it.
I’m sure it will, but it’s still second-hand electronic junk to me, no matter how often it’s described in hushed, reverent tones as being “vintage,” or “classic,” far, far worse, “retro.”
I have to admit that it does sound good, though.
So. Dinner was salmon steaks poached in a very light watercress sauce, asparagus tips (no butter) and a tiny portion of mashed potato in the absence of decent new ones.
Graham peered at my plate and then back at his own. ”I seem to have a lot more here than you do,” he said.
“Well of course. I am, as you constantly remind me…”
“…on a diet. There’s a good boy.”
“Not so much of the good. Goodness has nothing to do with it.”
