Mmmm. It is good to be at home. I have chicken stock simmering on the stove and thus a ghostly generational chorus of approving Jewish mothers hovering behind me, holding their breaths over every skim. Waiting to go in under the grill are some bbq pork ribs, which the Jewish mothers are kindly ignoring. Fish is beside me, coding away, listening to tech metal and occasionally muttering something derogatory about Coldplay. All of these things - my joy in being home, the cooking bonanza and Fish's Coldplay angst are a result of having spent last week in a tent, exposed to the elements and the new teenage obsession with laughing gas. Yes - we went to Glastonbury.
Fish has been once before, whereas I've always avoided it owing to my disinterest in most popular music (not in a deliberate snobby way, but more owing to an extremely limited memory and sense of timing), hatred of large crowds, relative poverty and fear of not being able to go to bed when I want to. However, I caved in this time as it seemed as though I should experience it once in my life at least, it's fallow next year and it seems unlikely that our group of friends is going to remain so cohesive for much longer. Anyway, turns out that I love it! Everyone was incredibly happy (and not entirely because of chemicals), the mud was an absolute pain but also bought out the best in English stoicism and mad dog determination to be outside and I definitely approve of being allowed to have your first drink before 11am. Also of Beardyman being awesome at 1.30 in the afternoon and of spending Sunday in the park having music played to you while drinking Pimms. Ooh, and of exploding spiders with acrobats on.
Pork is smelling nice now, and stock has been mostly skimmed. All is right with the world. Also, this wine is excellent. Remember, for future reference, Languedoc Rough 2008 is soft, velvety, warm, slightly spicy, not particularly dynamic but soothing and thoroughly delicious.
What else has happened? I've been temporarily promoted, which is nice, and I've just finished The Elegance of the Hedgehog - a translation from the French that feels like a much more charming Chocolat with philosophical pretensions and the occasional thoroughly beautifully phrased sentence. It further fuelled my longstanding desire to move to France and spend my days shelling garden peas, admiring wine and wearing elegant hats. Only the knowledge of how impossible it is for French life to live up to my imaginings stops me. Well, that, my innate laziness (a force that should never be underestimated as it realistically makes most of my decisions), Fish's dislike of all French things, particularly their brand of philosophy (he tends to suddenly become very Austrian at such moments), lack of money or viable alternative career...and the Euro. Don't really have any strong feelings about the Euro, tbh, but I felt I needed an ending.
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