We had a nice quiet weekend. The weather was ok on Saturday so we made some bacon rolls for lunch/breakfast and quickly headed out for a walk. I brought my kite just in case but, despite what the forecast said, there was little to no wind. We walked down to the one decent park in town, strolling along the river, then we crossed over and came back into the city centre through the road that takes you to the cathedral. I like that cathedral, it's a proper gothic-looking one even though it was (re)built in the 19th century; all pointy and projected towards the heavens. Gargoyles too. It has an old graveyard on the back, grass and tombstones and the odd knotty tree; you could spend the day there in contemplation. There's just something about graveyards. We went home and I talked to my parents over the phone. It was their anniversary but they were both down with a bad cough so they were just stewing at home. Probably caught a bug at some folkloric event they attended last weekend, up in the Alps; some parade to celebrate the return of the cow herds from the summer pastures - in all likelihood a tradition older than the written word. The absence of our late family dog is becoming more prominent in these conversations, I noticed - paradoxically, through the fact that we mention him less and less. He is not slipping out of our minds, but rather we both silently agree not to go there too often; or so I feel. But the gaping void he has left in the arguments of conversation is impossible to ignore. He tends to occur to me at night, when I'm smoking a cigarette alone by the window, which is when I am most vulnerable to such thoughts; I force myself to think of something else before my eyes give in. It's our little game; not like we can play any other now, of course.
On Sunday we woke up late and I made homemade piadine. They are easy to make and quite satisfactory. Filled them with ricotta, king oyster mushrooms, speck, rocket salad. It was our monthiversary (the word will never sound ok to me) so we got a little dressed up in the evening: my wife was stunning and I put on a shirt - like a proper heterosexual couple. We went to the supermarket in that attire because we suddenly realised we were low on wine. Grabbed a bottle of prosecco and nothing else, and I have the feeling I caught the cashier smirk; I should've included a box of condoms for a laugh. I gave my wife a gift: a cameo necklace with a picture of the Fitzgerald sisters from Ginger Snaps (2000). It has become one of her little obsessions after we watched the movie not long ago (she's planning to go as Brigitte this Halloween), so I knew she'd like it. Full disclosure: I am not thoughtful, it was just one of the gifts I had planned for her birthday that arrived too late. For dinner we had agreed to have takeaway in order to have more time for each other, but it still felt a little weird not to be cooking, I have to admit. We got a simple calzone with tomato and mozzarella from the place that replaced my favourite chipper; I am glad that at least it was replaced by something good. We have begun a rewatch of Desperate Housewives, but later that night my wife started telling me about this new documentary on David and Victoria Beckham she had just started watching; and about how it was clear they love each other very much, and how much she liked the dynamics in their relationship, and so on. She painted such a picture that I told her we were going to watch it together right then and there; which we did. We spent the rest of the night in bed, watching the documentary and thinking about how we too love each other that much.
Today I woke up later than I wanted (as usual) but still pissed off my wife with my thousand alarms. I decided to let her sleep a bit longer so I skipped making breakfast and went directly to the market to buy some nice bread for tonight's dinner (fancy sandwiches with steak, provolone cheese, bell peppers and rocket pesto). I also browsed the greengrocers and bought some items to be worked into this week's meals: baby onions, roseval potatoes, a turnip, swiss chards. I am moving away from summer vegetables, clearly. I bought some Norfolk apples that are sweet and crunchy; I could easily get addicted. Good fruit is such a treat but it is a rare find. I still think longingly of the apricots I ate straight from a tree on a summer holiday many years ago; I was about 9, I think. I ate them like candy, because that's what they were. After the shopping I came home and my wife was still asleep. While she got up I made us breakfast, which had turned into lunch at that point, and then started working a little. It is my turn to give a presentation for the working group tomorrow, so I spent the afternoon preparing my lecture. I started off quite ambitious but I have settled for something shorter (I am working against my tendency to go overtime); it is nothing exciting anyway. Later I made dinner, we planned our meals for the rest of the week (less stressful than usual, remarkably) and went back to watching the Beckhams doc. Then I spent well over an hour writing this entry. I am a slow writer.