Sunday, March 29: Have the longest walk so far, on a beautiful sunny day, a real sense of camaraderie afoot. I’ve been uneasy lately, walking on my own. But this feels okay. By unspoken agreement we all skirt around each other on the pavement, with nods and smiles. The local fruit and vege shop is open, so that may be a good option for supplies. I’m still trying to make sense of the new normal. Loving the phonecalls, sharing Netflix tips and silly videos.
Speak to my neighbour Paula on my walk, and a man I know slightly … he turns out to be a neighbour. He’s lived in the area for seven years and this is the first time we’ve sighted each other.
I sit on Bill’s memorial seat in our subdivision each day when I come back from my walk. I tell him he’s needed more than ever.
Anna gives me meat from her parents’ farm for the freezer; fillet steak, lamb knuckles and neck chops. More culinary gold. Meanwhile I’m still thawing dodgy pottles. Tonight’s dinner will be a lottery. Looks like a lamb curry but I can’t remember making it. I boil up the fig jam while I cook dinner. #domesticgoddess #thanksjackie
The first Covid-19 death in New Zealand is reported today, and a cluster of 15 cases (this number grows alarmingly) in Matamata, all with contact at bars that are favourites of my sister Margot’s family. Too close to home.
Highlights: watching Rake on Netflix; just the sort of rollicking silliness I need right now. Plus Shtisel, an intriguing Jewish series, and Shetland, notable for its amazing Shetland Islands scenery as well as sound detective stories.
Fig jam
1 kg figs, washed and chopped (skin on)
1 vanilla bean
1 cinnamon quill
500g caster sugar
rind and juice of a lemon
Assemble and mix all ingredients. Boil over low heat in a large heavy-based pot for 45 minutes until thick and sticky. Mash lightly with a fork. Transfer to sterilised jars. Excellent with hot cross buns.
