Hello on a cold and frosty day. I'm home and cooking. Something from Sam and Sam Clark's Moro book, atun con oloroso, tuna marinated in garlic and sherry with a sweet onion sauce. A new one on me. Just sweating the onions. I shall sear the tuna nice and rare, mum would not approve.
Mum had to come in today. It would have been her birthday. 85. On this day thoughts drift towards her. I have managed quite well today avoiding being distracted by another anniversary. I did a very successful training course today, good response and some appreciation from the audience. So kept with it all.
Here at home as I cook and Mozart plays she is popping gently into my mind. Not as the raging torrent of anger that she could be in life. Nor the woman wracked with and devastated by anxiety of the end of her life. But more for a passing that was so sudden and unexpected. She was sometimes a very difficult person to be around but one only had to see her on a Thursday morning at St Peter's C of E Primary School Folkestone teaching kids to read to realise she could be kind and warm hearted and for a couple of hours cast her despair aside. That is how I would like to remember her as indeed generations of young people from the school will recall her.
With the weekend looming I need the rest. I'm hoping to go to choral evensong at a local church on Sunday. So as I'm wont to do on such occasions I will indulge myself with Sunday lunch out, probably with Laurent at The Waggoners. Not been for a while.
I Heard a Voice.
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