Sunday June 1, 2008
It’s quantity with me and the wine of course. All of my nature and nurture struggle between me and a half-empty bottle. Additionally, my switch to white plonk, which is made stronger and stronger year by year, to cater to the appetites of young winos, has been a bad move. I shall attempt a return to red. And a great deal less.
I managed the reduction in quantity yesterday quite reasonably well and woke this morning without hang-over. Not full of vim and vigour of course–the rising heat and humidity put paid to that–but fit and able to cope with the world, with a trip to the holiday camp to pick up Graham, and with a pleasant evening eating M&S lentil and bean roast alongside a mountain of fresh, seasonal vegetables. We followed that with a raid on my store cupboard, where Graham came up with tinned strawberries and I, all fruit and vegetabled out, sought and found one of my emergency cans of semolina.
“These are gorgeous,” Graham said, slurping the last of his red strawberry and apple juice.
“Can’t say my semolina is very good. Too runny.”
“Serves you right. You should make your own.”
“What a silly idea.”