I sat at the kitchen table for a short while this morning, writing down a few thoughts before making breakfast. There's something about those early hours, the quiet, the sense of a world largely still asleep, I want to see more of them. I sat and I wrote and I realised that my hand cramps up far too quickly in these days of working entirely on a computer, never needing to write by hand. I need to get back in practice, I used to write pages by hand, notes in lectures, essays in exams, writing down my thoughts before falling asleep, now I can barely get through three tiny Moleksine pages.
The remains of a cake made on Saturday was wrapped up on the table, the smell of the orange syrup coming through the foil, the last pieces ready for us to have after dinner tonight. On Saturday there was Margot Henderson's roast chicken with lemon roast potatoes, wilted watercress and too much wine, tonight there will be Molly's roasted cauliflower with fried eggs. The orange and Campari cake to finish came with ice-cream and dessert wine on Saturday, tonight it will be plain, a cup of tea alongside. All so good, all linked to things that were on my mind in the last week. Margot Henderson shining in this video; Molly winning a James Beard Award, celebrating almost 11 years of Orangette, such an inspiration to so many, such well deserved recognition; that cake coming from a cookbook given to us as a wedding present by friends whose wedding we will be at this weekend.