By Veronica

Wet wet wet

It's rather galling looking at all the bright sunny blips from the UK. It's very rare to have such a run of wet days here. At least yesterday it was quite warm, and a nice sunny interval in the afternoon even allowed a sun lounger in the garden moment. Today it's been wet wet wet all day, and cold as well. 

Mystère did endless circuits going out of the front door and then demanding to be let in again at the back, then vice versa. No outdoor yoga, but I did some marching up and down the path when it wasn't raining. Whizzed through a lot of the classical music course, which is interesting and well presented. And continued to read L'Assommoir. I feel obliged to finish it now I'm within 100 pages of the end. But my next read will be something easier and more cheerful.

Tonight's film fitted the bill for that. S randomly hit on Moonstruck, a 1987 romantic comedy with Cher and Nicholas Cage (plus a delightful Olympia Dukakis as Cher's mum). It was quite trivial and silly, with a completely obvious plot, and hit the spot on a day when we'd been going a bit stir-crazy. Also, terrible 80s clothes, cars, and hairdos.

Food diary: I decided to make a vegetable curry for lunch with a jar of curry paste we had. Chickpeas with potatoes, carrots, tinned tomatoes, and some frozen spinach tossed in when I thought the rest was nearly cooked. I'd cut the potatoes and carrots into small dice ... they took hours to cook for some reason. I don't mind al dente carrots, but undercooked potatoes are vile. We eventually sat down for lunch at about quarter to four. There's loads left -- I cooked it for another hour and a half because I forgot about it, and the carrots are just about tender now. 

No food needed this evening, we had a bottle of Catalan white wine (the bakery's star turn), a bit of jamón, and some marinated artichokes.

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