Fruitfulness

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After a good uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, I woke this morning feeling much better. R is still suffering pretty badly though, so our plans to roller-skate up the Long Mynd had to be put on hold, and we spent the day very quietly. In fact, other than some cooking, and a Zoom chat with the younger generation, I’d be hard pressed to tell you what I did with myself – a couple of brisk circuits of the village, half an hour’s fartnarklery with these quinces in the garden, and more social media than is healthy, probably sums it up.

Now I’ve photographed the quinces I’d like to get on with making some dulce de membrillo, but grinding the fruit through a food mill and then stirring the paste (seemingly endlessly) as it thickens is quite hard physical work, and I need R back in action to help me. If I’d asked him to do it today, I think it might have finished him off altogether.

As an old English woman with not the faintest stirring of enthusiasm for musical theatre, the strangest thing that happened to me today is that I seem to have fallen headlong in love with the cast of Hamilton…..