Today Auntie Sarah thought it would be a good idea for Grandma, herself and I to go round the supermarkets in Bury to scour the reduced aisle and between the three get our grocery shopping done.
The sun today really was like a summers day sun, so bright that I hung my scarf over the window to stop the light shining in my left in a sort of doppler effect, but I kept pulling back my makeshift curtain to look at the countryside speeding past me. The pond was glittering, and the fields were Irish green, and only the leafless trees could have told you it was winter. Sometimes I catch myself falling into the strange acceptance that these naked, feather-like branches are what trees are and always will be, forgetting the lush greenness and leafness of trees in spring and summer. Oh, spring - I really can't wait for spring. Right now it is a season of anticipation and promise, everywhere you step the earth seems to whisper to you 'Wait, be patient, there is life trembling under the ground.'
For some reason, trailing round the grocery stores took hours - much longer than I anticipated. Perhaps it was because of my sore legs and bum after falling down the stairs yesterday! I made falafel for dinner and had time alone for a rare hour. I usually have time alone, but Grandma will be somewhere in the house too and I feel the need to talk to her and fill every moment I have with her. Tonight she was over at Auntie Sarah's house while I made the carrot and orange soup, and the falafel patties (folding in oat flour to the mixture and squishing our the burgers is such a satisfying feeling) and roasted tomatoes, sauteed spinach and sliced up some sweet little peppers. All that with hummous made for a completely satisfying meal.
I realise I frown a lot when I do the washing up, which is probably why grandma and I have fallen into the symbiotic habit where I cook and she washes us, which saves her from eating tinned soup and cardboard bread all the time, and saves me from growing old before my time.
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