Woke to a world brilliantly beautiful under a dusting of snow and bright blue-skied sunshine. Still beastly cold, and the snow stayed where the sun didn’t hit, but a good, fresh day to be out and about.
Even if only for a neighbourly impromptu gathering in the street outside on the way to Sainsbury’s.
They’d been restrained with the salt/grit in the supermarket car park but even allowing for Saturday haste, drivers were tolerant of unsurely footed old blokes with sticks. Well, of this old bloke, anyway. I think the broad smile and cheery wave may account for some of it. They probably don’t fancy the bad publicity and extra paperwork involved in “Impatient motorist mows down OAP”.
Graham is much improved but couldn’t fancy a coffee shop lunch so we got stuff and bolted back home to soup and bread. For once I was entirely satisfied with soup and a small bit of bread.
Tonight is his night to cook. I offered to take it over, allowing him more time to rest up, but he insisted, and has elected to make a chick pea vegetable balti-style curry.
“But we don’t have any balti serving dishes,” I said.
“You’ll just have to pretend.”
“And this is not a no-alcohol establishment.”
He gave me an appraising look. “Have another glass,” he said. “That’ll make it easier to pretend.”
“Another glass and I’ll be able to pretend anything.”
A little while later, he told me it’s not going to be a balti.
“Well, what is it, then?”
“It’s closer to a dopiaza.”
“Oh. Pour me another glass and I’ll be able to pretend it’s anything you say.”
