Pink Peppercorns

28th April 2012 Saturday

Walking along a stretch of the Tiverton canal, the rain holds off but the wind is icy. The water is quiet  - we only see one coot, one moorhen and a mallard in the reeds. We pass a  group of sheep and their lambs - their coats the color of apricots. A ploughed field stands out in the green washed landscape - purple as plum skins. My gloveless hands are lavender blue for most of the four miles.

I’m hungry for hot food when we get home. I fry sliced chestnut mushrooms and courgettes in coconut oil, throw in some tasteless cherry tomatoes, loads of garlic, half a cup of  vegetable bouillion and stir in chopped swiss chard when everything is melting soft. At the last minute I shake in some bright pink peppercorns - tiny beads of spice - and think about my niece, who is pregnant, in the Lebanon. She was with me when we bought them in a wonderful Wholefoods Supermarket in London last year. Now her sister is visiting her ....I wonder what they are cooking tonight.

And I think about the  Hungarian woman I read about in the newspaper today. She’s a midwife under 24 hours house arrest in Budapest. She has been in prison for years for delivering babies to women in their homes. The police can come into her house whenever they want. I wonder what they are so afraid of. And what it must be like to never feel safe in your own home.