Got up. Had breakfast. Saw greenfinch and two long-tailed tits on the feeders (one of the latter came and peered through the kitchen window at me), Waved Julia off to her meeting at he railway station, read emails (boring), answered comments (better) and read blogs (better still). Now I need to write.
Julia had a good afternoon at the tea room. The shopping arrived and everything was there. I forgot to order yoghurt.
Last night’s meal, sausage, onion gravy, mashed mixed veg (carrot, parsnip and butternut squash) broccoli, mustard mash, worked out well, though the “onion gravy” was a bit thick and lacked liquid and flow. It was more like a splodge of onions with flavouring. It’s amazing how many ways I can get things wrong. That should be the simplest part.
I tried writing some notes whilst watching TV but it didn’t work well. The days when I could read a book, watch TV and chat are long gone. My brain is clearly closing down, though my fading hearing is also playing a part as I need to spend more effort on listening.
Finished my article on wartime cheese production last night. It’s quite instructive, thinking back, because I have become so used to a fine variety of cheese the days of cabinets filled with blocks of Cheddar had just about faded from my memory. Cheddar, Red Leicester, Double Gloucester and Stilton were, it seemed, the only British cheeses. When we visited grandparents the shops had Lancashire and Wensleydale and I used to nag my parents to buy some to take home. And ice cream from Mrs Hudsons.
Ah, nostalgia!

It looked a lot better in real life, and tasted good too. I really must brush up on my food photography.







