I take Daisy shopping at Waitrose in the morning as Lily still has her cough. I foolishly opt for the steep road short-cut whose black ice means that I have to rely on gravity to stop the car before traversing the A3100. Waitrose’s car-park is like an ice-rink and holding a two-year old in one hand and a bouquet of recyclable carrier bags in the other, means that we skate hand-in-hand down to the entrance like Torville & Dean. As usual, I am forced to make several emergency phone calls back to HQ, when various items are either sold out or just plain confuse me (failure to procure the exact item is instructed on shopping list inevitably results in some kind of admonishment that would not look out of place on an army base.) The rest of the day is spent reorganizing the dining room/Wine-Journal HQ, invariably unearthing lost tasting sheets and letters I ought to have replied to aeons ago. But I really cannot be bothered and thus spend the evening reacquainting myself with Scritti Politti’s “Cupid & Psyche” album from 1985.
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