Came home from work through dreadful traffic. Cold and rainy night - it took an hour to make the 20k . John at Tai Chi classes until 7 pm so I made a log fire, put some potatoes and mushrooms in the ooven to bake, dusted off the Raclette grill for a supper of green salad, potatoes, mushrooms, german sausage and melted cheese. This simple fare was eaten in front of the burning logs, with Zappa stretched out in front of the hearth. The raclette machine was a present from Mari many years ago. There is a nice ritual involved, to do with the carving of the cheese and popping slices into the little trays which go under the grill. Each person can then monitor the extent of cooking in their tray; some like it barely melted, I like it bubbling and just starting to brown on top.
After supper I stretched out on the sofa to read Haruki Murakami's "Wind-Up Bird Chronicle". I'm only a couple of chapters in but it's grabbed me even more so than his other books. I love the understated surreal writing. If I ever write a novel I'd aspire to this type of weirdness. I can't wait to get to the next chapter to find out the significance of the missing polka-dot tie.
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