Now I am back from my travels, the days begin to blur into each other again. We find ourselves, or myself, at the midway point between by birthday and Christmas, the year ever presses on and on.
Of course it is dark still at seven in the morning, and dark again soon after five, doubly so when it is cloudy and/or raining.
I am up to date at work, so I just monitor mails and field calls in my capacity as some kind of quality expert.
The heavy rain forecasted the day before, failed to arrive, and light rains were sept from east to west by light winds. At least its not cold.
Yet.
I wish I could tell you something exciting, but life is as dull at ditchwater once again, though planning is progressing regarding a week in northern France at the end of next month. Just perfect for Christmas beer. I would imagine.
With half a loaf of focaccia to use up, Jools suggested having carbonara again, which I didn't argue with.I used up another quarter of the hunk of Guanciale, and cooked the pasta, fried the Guanciale, added the eggy-cheesy mixture once Jools came home, and she poured some pink fizz.
Like being on holiday once again.
More football in the evening, nothing worth talking about. Some might ay that should always be the case.
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