Still sitting quietly, looking out of the window at the chill, damp, grey weather.
Graham braved the wet, donned his big waterproof jacket, and walked up to the post office. I suggested that, if he were willing to walk at my pace, I’d really rather like to walk along with him.
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “It’s too far for you, and we’d both be found frozen like little icicles before we got home. Stay here, and be ready with the kettle and tea pot when I get back.”
Which is what we did. He arrived in the doorway no more than twenty minutes later, all flushed red and huffing great steamy Candlemas breaths. Hot tea followed in short order and I resumed my watcher’s post, looking out the window, counting squirrels in the trees.
“What’s the curry tonight, then?” I asked, it being his mid-week cooking night.
“Chicken madras, with augmented madras.”
“Yummity. Will you be using your new pestle and mortar?”
“Oh yes.”
And so very shortly now, coming up to 7:30 in the evening, the kitchen will be filling with lovely curry spice smells. Just as well our neighbour on the kitchen side is a great curry fan, too, and doesn’t mind the evening aroma. And I don’t suppose the squirrels will object, either.
~~+~~
The new grinder
~~+~~
