Friday 5th November
Day 198
Lighting my way with a torch, I carry two stacked bowls of vegetable peelings and egg shells down to the compost bin at the bottom of the garden. The air is Florida warm on my face. The sky is misty with gunpowder smoke - it’s alive with bangs and whistles and raining showers of sparkling stars - blue and green and gold which die seconds later like melting snowflakes at midnight.
Back in the kitchen the scent of birthday cake welcomes me.Two round tins on the cooling tray giving up their warm coconut aroma. I’m not really surprised when they sink in the middle. As I tipped it in I thought the mixture was too batter thin for a sponge. Maybe they’ll be good for a trifle. I’ll need to whisk up something else tomorrow - possibly ginger - my father likes ginger.
It seems the fireworks will crackle and spurt all night. I’ll let the pussy cat stay crouched under our bed - his eyes as round wide as my flat cakes.
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