I was cooking dinner this evening when Ro came into the kitchen and stood behind me. After a minute I turned, having a sense that he didn’t just happen to be standing there.
“Hug” he said. And we did. “I’m tired,” he said “and I didn’t work nearly such a long day as you.”
I meant to close the shop at 5, but I was still busy and the last customer left at 5.40. By the time I’d taken the display in, cashed up, worked out tomorrow’s order and phoned it in, a further hour had passed.
I had a great day. I have been given a recipe for Seville orange gin, given one out for marmalade*, explained why you cannot make pineapple jelly with uncooked pineapple, made a £10 fruit gift box, flirted delicately, made friends with several dogs, including a terrier who licked all over my face while my hands were full, carried a 25 kilo (55 pound) bag of potatoes to a customer’s car, taken a huge order for Friday (the receipts will be impressive on Friday and not had time to read a word of any of the three books I had taken in to occupy my afternoon. I also ate a maple and pecan Danish pastry in the afternoon, to keep my strength up.
Tonight, I cooked a simple and encouraging supper of bangers and mash, with tomatoes and (close your eyes, Wendz) lots of small green fart-bombs. Followed by a few chocolates.
Tomorrow morning I will go in early to set up as I have a Meeting to go to in Norwich. I hope Eileen isn’t as busy as we were today, as she will be alone from 9-1, although the Sage will go in to offer encouragement. He will also deliver Meals on Wheels for me.
*to a young man who made his first pots of strawberry jam in the summer and, fired with zeal, wishes to repeat the feat with marmalade now.