Sunday Roast

Last night the wind howled and sighed around our house like a cat. The rain was torrential, bringing nearly all the leaves down from the trees lining the street. We were woken up at about four in the morning by the sounds of the heavy weather, so we slept late and watched the recurring showers as the sun rose. I'm always uneasy in high winds, as I replaced a broken skylight (damaged by cowboy builders!) with plastic a few years ago, and I am not convinced of its strength. By 11:30 there was a clear spell, with a strong wind and a bright blue sky, so Moonface & I took the chance to walk up to the downs for plodge in the mud and to clear our lungs. The wet had kept many people indoors, so the Downs were unusually empy and pleasant for a Sunday.

In the evening, all five of us (including the boyfriend) had a traditional roast meal together. I prepared most of the trimmings, if not all; with wonderful crackling, apple sauce, gravy, roast potoatoes and veg. I enjoy cooking roasts, as the procedure has become like a dance, with a sequence of events that can be changed and varied according to needs and to whim. We should entertain more often, as it's months since I cooked for several guests rather than just my family.