First gloom of dawn, today was foggy. I woke, peered out of the curtain and the whole world was enveloped in fog. It didn't feel all that damp and my cossie hanging on the balcony rail was dry.
By the time I'd completed first coffee duty the grey had gone and the blue was marred only by a solo vapour trail straight as a die passing roughly from NW-SE. This heralded anotherlovely day. Wandering and a bit of essential shopping, the usual for lunch and a leisurely walk over the road for a swim.
Stayed in a bit longer than I should because it was so nice, gin clear water and spangly sun glistening. Getting out was OK but the wind, non existent when I went in was from the north and a bit cool when I came out. The walk back over the road was a trifle undignified but there were no cameras about.
The wiser one sat with her back to a palm facing the sun and sleeping over a book. Eventually, she returned and then a rather serious issue became apparent. Sitting down, as we were for afternoon tea, as one does in order to maintain some semblance of our heritage, we finished off the delighful Christmas cake, actually grateful that both of our offspring had eschewed their mother's gracious offer and declined to take posession of it preferring to depart with mince pies and sundry other goods instead. Should I be grateful for ingratitude? Not if I like mince pies, too. And Brandy Butter. That went as well.
Anyway, I'm glad they left us the cake. A mince pie or two would go down well now, though.
I can confirm that large plastic cartons of Rodda's proper cream, once emptied, can hold almost half a Christmas cake if cut thinly and stowed delicately. The same carton also conveys the cake if merely stuffed into it although one wouldn't want to offer any to polite company. The six elastic bands managed to keep most of it inside for the duration of its travels and all the escapees were diligently
recaptured. The cake was home made, obviously, but not by me if that's what you thought.
However we noted that the tea was a tad "different" from its normal flavour. Maybe San Miguel at lunchtime had ruined out palettes. Fortunately not, rather the taste for UHT milk had lost its novelty value and the though of putting proper tea to the sword did not
appeal. The tea, English Breakfast Blend, c/o Costa Rica Coffee and Tea Plantation, 44 Abbey Road TQ and distributed by a Topsham dweller of some standing, is not up to its usual standard and having brought a supply sufficient for the duration one is a trifle concerned.
How do we get around this one, then?
What is Spanish for "Quisiera proper milk like what you get in a green screw capped Tescos plastic carton, por favor?"Fortunately, The Coffee, a rather tasty high grown Honduran finely ground and pressed very, very carefully through an Aeropress is relatively untainted in a UHT kind of way but I do tend to make it a little strong so the caffeine kick is its usual unimpeded self.
But the tea is another story.
As was tonight's omelette, a feat of cooking that I have undertaken before. Alas, the frying pan was once non stick. Now it's just a mess, as was the omelette. However, in my stressed state in the kitchen and developing a thirst I tried some of her Vino Blanc. A Valencian 1.90Euro bottle from Masymas supermercado and I found it rather pleasant, for a non wine drinker.
Tomorrow she says she's buying a red.
Is that good?
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