The Wages of Sin
My favourite glasses*, on the windowsill the next day after dinner, are waiting to be washed by hand. These don't "dish-wash", the shape is awkward and they're old enough to suffer pitting from the machine detergent. I wash and leave them to drain on one of those spongy towelling mats.
I love the cooking and the planning. I love the experimenting. I love the gatherings. I love the memories the next day as I dump the empty wine bottles in the bin. I love the putting away of my toys we have played with that evening. I love the calm meditation later over the ironing. But let's face it, even when there are only two of us, it's still work - the price of pleasure- the wages of sin.
Now to share. I've been a little overwhelmed lately by hospital visits, taxi servicing, consoling, listening, empathising. I'm bloody exhausted.
But over the last eight days, we've been fed and cared for at a casual lunch over-looking the beach, after a Vernissage** (a dazzling post art gallery opening dinner for 12) and a Sunday evening table of five with very amusing friends.
Two artists at work.
Left: Jo - lazy lunch on the verandah. We could be anywhere from Pt Elliott to Pondicherry, from Bali to Bora Bora.
Right: Liz - sumptuous atmosphere with cleverly re-purposed "stuff" from auctions and junk shops.
Here were three days out of eight when I didn't have to think, didn't have to face an untidy kitchen when I came to make my jentacular*** cup of tea, didn't have to unload the dishwasher. Bliss. Can you imagine how helpful, how fabulous that was?
Remember this. It's so easy to add a couple of people to an evening meal or put together a sandwich or salad lunch. It could really make a difference to someone's week.
*Glasses - The tall ones - Holmgaard Princess, mid 60s. (Catch sight of them in Darling, 1965, Julie Christie, Dirk Bogart, Laurence Harvey.) Lovely, but admittedly a touch unstable; only used with certain friends. Rear, Kosta Boda Isadora, mid 80s.
**Vernisage - the French expression for an art gallery opening. I've heard it used here sometimes. (It's possibly from the early 1800s, when artists could varnish or put finishing touches to their work before opening to the general public.)
***Jentacular - You can't live without this word. It relates to any pre-breakfast ritual - a walk, a cup of tea, the crossword...
Comment 👇 and help out a friend.
3/11/2019 05:28:23 pm
Where have I been? I have struggled finding the words for....art gallery opening, and then how to describe my pre-breakfast ritual. Thank you, Catherine. It is important work that you do.
15/11/2019 03:04:49 am
***Jentacular walk? What luxury! My labrador wakes up as soon as he hears my husband climb out of bed at 5.30am. (This happens seven days a week because he's a keen golfer) He (the dog) then pushes his nose into my face and nuzzles me until I give in and half-asleep, get up to prepare his breakfast, after which he prances about, tail wagging, wanting to play. (For God's sake!) It's quite puppyish behaviour for a mature gentleman who will be nine this Christmas. 'Play' consists of him giving me one of his rope toys to hold while he, all 30 kilos of him, pulls on the other end which is of course, gripped firmly between his teeth. By then it's 6.15am and after he's decided to return to his sheep-skin lined basket (Yes, he's very spoilt) for a post breakfast kip, I'm finally allowed to crawl back into bed. (I'm definitely an 'owl'). When my 'lark' husband returns we have breakfast; walk the dog, then return home to do the Telegraph crossword. Could you coin a name for this post-breakfast ritual which happens 365 days of the year, Christmas day being no exception apart from the fact that as there's no newspaper, - no crossword.
Leave a Reply.