Thursday 3rd February
Day 288
Finding the first purple sprouting broccoli in the farmers’ market this morning - pert leaves springy as jumping beans.
Coffee in a cafe, exchanging memories of 1966 with a dear friend, leaving our African homes for a different life in the coolness of the northern hemisphere.
Lunch with my husband - stretching the left over mushroom risotto with Calvo Nero cabbage, parmesan shavings and peas - a pale creamy sea swirled with weed.
Flicking through a new cookery book - Jamie’s Thirty Minute Meals - while I test and test again my Seville orange marmalade, seething on the stove, trying to capture setting point on the icy saucer .It eludes me for a long ninety minutes.
Standing on the stairs, holding my husband’s misery at arm’s length with briskness and suggestions. Wishing his fear didn’t remind me of mine, a barb in my heart. Wishing I could be kinder - to him and to me.
Tonight the healing company of a circle of dear friends, the haunting notes of sitar and clear Indian voice. And afterwards when the music stops, squidgey chocolate fudge cake and laughing together in smaller circles.
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