I’m sure that no one with a new car in England bothers with summer and winter tyres any more. Tim didn’t know he was doing that, when he bought his splendid BMW coupé back in 2008. He found out, when he couldn’t drive up the road in the first frost of the winter. So he bought a new set of wheels and has had them changed twice a year, ever since. BMW is good at upselling.
The nuisance now is that I need new winter tyres. I booked the changeover well in advance and had email and phone confirmation. But when I arrived this morning, I was apologetically told that the new tyres hadn’t turned up. I wasn’t cross, there’s no point. Not the man who told me’s fault. I explained that the only time I can get the job done is on Tuesday (actually, Wednesday morning, at a pinch, now I think of it) and if it can’t be done then, I’ll just take the wheels with me and get them done in Norfolk.
So that left me with a free day. I went to the Exotic Superstore in the Oxford Road. I adore that shop. I bulk-buy spices and stock up on curry leaves, Soan Papdi, gram flour, all the things I can’t get in Yagnub. I’ve binge-bought unusual vegetables and lovely things. I may be unable to resist another visit before leaving for home. In the afternoon, I went to bed and slept.
I had an interesting online conversation the other day, on the Times website. There was an article about gut health. Sorry. Someone mentioned that, since starting to make her own sourdough bread and not using commercial yeast at all, she’s had spectacular improvement in her wellbeing. She mentioned that people who had problems with gluten and/or wheat were fine with her bread (not coeliac, of course). Though, if I had that problem, I’m not sure I’d risk it, but that’s another matter. Someone else chimed in with a similar story and I added my piece – I won’t go into intestinal details, but I think so too. I never had any problem before, but it’s better (and, even when it doesn’t rise well, I love my bread) since I went full sourdough. I use a mixture of white and wholemeal wheat flour, wholemeal rye flour and several different seeds, my sourdough starter is white wheat and whole rye flour. It tastes so good that I can be bothered to make it, even when I can’t be bothered with other cooking. My online friend says that a three-day making session is best and that’s what I’ll go for next time; I only take two. Apparently, the commercially produced sourdough bread you buy does contain yeast as well, which accounts for why it’s both light and not as satisfying as mine.
I cried this evening, suddenly. I’d cooked dinner – I didn’t know what to cook, so sliced an onion and went from there – added some mushrooms and an egg and a slice of the aforementioned bread and a couple of glasses of red wine. Not mixed together, obvs. I sat at the dining table and started to talk to Tim and it hit me yet again, dammit.
John G and I had a chat the other evening and he phoned me back afterwards and said he’d cried for the first time since his dad died, after what I’d said – I can’t remember what that was, but it was apparently a good thing. He feels now that he’s let go, it’s been cathartic. I know what he means but it doesn’t work for me. I want to talk to Tim and I do, but there’s no reply because he’s dead. What we need to say to each other just hangs there. There’s no answer, so no chance of ever finding any sort of completion. The mother of a friend of mine died, 25 or so years ago, and my friend told me that she badly wanted to talk through some issues from her childhood, but mother sidestepped the conversations. Tim and I didn’t have issues, but we did have a lot more to talk about and now it can never happen. And we can’t have fun or chat or share anything. There’s such a massive hole. It’s too big even to patch, never mind mend. I’ve learned more over the years and I could listen and talk better to those whom I’ve lost. But it’s too late. What’s in my head could be shared, but there’s no point because those whose replies I want can’t make them. One just has to live with that, there’s no answer. I react more and more slowly, as time goes by. I do try not to say things that are better unsaid. Tim did say that he appreciated that, actually.
Anyway, enough. Let’s finish well. I’m looking forward to a sociable weekend. Though it’s a lot of travelling, it’s actually two-hour trips at most. I have brought a nice dress and will have a big smile on my face the whole time, a genuine one. One has to make the best of every day and I’ve got a lot of blogfriend hugs to pass on to John.