what a weekend...
bicton on Saturday morning for a knife skills class, then a trip to mondo butcher where I was tempted by not only the lamb I was there to buy, but also beef cheeks, duck liver and kangaroo mince.
I am starting to spend more time in the kitchen, which may be detrimental to the size of my arse, but it's doing my soul a whole lot of good.

in the evening I rode to the blackcurrants where Matt fitted Merv with spanking new panniers and we ate a delicious dinner and watched Crocodile Dundee. I left before I was able to fall asleep to the Tour de France. (is there a pattern emerging here?)

This morning I was all ready to catch up with Zan at X-Wray - I sat under the flame trees in that oldest of old memory haunts. And waited. And drank a macchiato and waited. I sent a text, I called her phone. And then, dejected I ordered breakfast.

Afterwards I walked to the market and bought fruit and veg, and was blessed with a block of free goat's feta. I bought spices and coffee and trundled home, picked up some beautiful irises on beaufort street later and then set to cooking up a storm in my compact kitchen.

CG came over for dinner and we grazed through the whole menu.

and now, dishes done and ready for bed, I am sitting in a room with flowers and quiet light, a sleeping cat and familiar pictures. even keel, that's all I want...