The washing machine is gently rumbling, the bags are unpacked (apart from the half-emptied suitcase that’s hiding underneath the dressing table) and the Ocado Man (long shall he live) has just dropped off our week’s supply of groceries. I am well and truly back.
With me came the rain – sorry about that – and the temperatures dropped to where I suspect my Mojo to sojourn: somewhere so deep down, you don’t really want to know.
During the past four weeks, I have been mainly feeding on self-grown tomatoes from the garden and aromatic melons from the local market. I have easily and gladly eaten my yearly requirement of five-a-day veg (my new middle name is Ratatouille), and the only sweets I have been craving came in the form of cooling ice cream and sorbets.
In a spell of delusional nutritional superiority (HA! I am stronger than chips and chocolate!), I even bought armloads full of sophisticated French gourmet magazines. In that specific moment, I was convinced I would cook the aubergine-burrata-tomatoe pylon ‘and it’s basil infused olive oil vinaigrette’. All home made, of course.
Pah. At least the images are nice to look at whilst I munch on ginger crunches and sip a cup of Earl Grey tea.