Tuesday 4th May

Day 15

When I’m this tired and it’s this late it’s best for me to write about food. Which is easy as I have been in London with a dear friend. The icy north wind threw us into the shelter of the Royal Festival Hall for coffee and muffins. Swept us into a cosy Turkish restaurant for an aubergine, artichoke, tomato and dill lunch. Buffeted us across the Millenium Bridge and deposited us back at the Queen Elizabeth for tea and a sticky pecan nut tart.

But not to forget the dessert at lunch - it sits between us on the yellow tablecloth like a hot pastry envelope. The letter folded inside is a crumbly pistachio paste perfumed with rose water. Drizzled over the top is a shiny brown syrup - sharp and sweet pomegranate molasses. We mop this up this dark pool with little squares of the pastry and share the luxury of being together across a table instead of on the end of a phone.

On the train home I catch glimpses of rape fields - their brightness darkening to mustard as the light slowly leaves the sky and the hedges turn black.