The shadows are beginning to lengthen as the sun moves south but summer is back. The temperature is predicted to rise to 35 by the weekend. I’ve forgotten whether or not this is within my comfort zone. As a child holidays were always taken in the first fortnight of September, sometimes by the Mediterranean, and it always seemed to mean too much heat and too many mosquitoes. I think I’m used to the former but a mozzie near my ear can bring me, heart palpitating, out of the deepest sleep. Then I have to turn on the light, wait five minutes for the damn thing to settle on the wall before I can despatch it and then return to slumber. They say there are more of them about than normal thanks to the damp summer. The grass has remained green and growing throughout.
I haven’t cracked bread here. Buy a baguette and I end up with most of it stale and not worth eating. I have bought a slightly chewier rectangular loaf and frozen it, attacking it a half at a time, but I don’t eat enough to stop that going stale as well. Currently I am trying little par-cooked things but they’re not that interesting. I also use the crispy dry stuff that are stocked in great profusion in all the supermarkets but my current packet was so delicate that it reduced itself to crumbs before I got it home. Perhaps I could use it for coating veal or fish.