Saturday, April 11: On my way to make an early morning cup of tea I notice (not for the first time) a pile of ironing all higgledy-piggledy in the guest bedroom. I ask, if not now, when? So it’s a while before I’m back in bed with the tea but by 7.45am there is a neatly pressed collection of clothes and pillowcases to show for this random thought. There is no fixed schedule in my bubble.
Next, the question of what to wear: every day, the answer is the same, anything that looks okay with leggings.
Honestly, as well as mooching, I’ve switched down several gears with clothes. My two pairs of stretchy black leggings are getting a thrashing, as are longish comfy tops that can reliably cover my bottom. You need this with leggings.
Leggings mean you’re dressed for anything in lockdown, walking, pilates, cleaning, jam-making, full stretch on the couch to read, and they’re presentable enough for an unexpected video call. It’s like a wearing a uniform, worthy but dull. To my huge excitement, I find a third pair of leggings today that I’ve completely overlooked. Getting the other two in and out of the wash won’t be so crucial.
I bought a green and black new-season dress a couple of weeks before lockdown and heaven knows when it will get an airing. I pull it out this morning to remind myself of what it looks like, tuck it back on the rack and reach for a blue shirt to liven the leggings.
Highlights: walking on a sparklingly sunny Waikato day, two lemons (absolute gold) left in the letterbox by neighbour Mary; and a memorable family Zoom event connecting Hamilton, Papamoa and Mairangi Bay.
Reading: I’m just done with Thomas Cromwell, fixer and enforcer to the despotic, delusional King Henry V111. The seemingly indestructible Cromwell strides across the pages of author Hilary Mantel’s stunning trilogy, Wolf Hall, Bring Up the Bodies, and the monumental finale, The Mirror & the Light. I turn the last page of this reluctantly; Cromwell has sustained, enthralled and horrified me for two weeks of lockdown. I’ll miss him.
Cooking: Simple soups are a godsend, like this one today. In a heavy-based pot, gently fry a leek (or two, depending on the quantity you want) in butter and oil with a chopped, peeled potato (or two). Add about 600ml of chicken stock (or water), a tin of any white beans, drained, fresh thyme, salt and pepper. Simmer until potatoes and leeks are tender, blend, and serve with fresh herbs, sour cream or parmesan, and extra cracked pepper. I have a skerrick of Emme’s bread left to mop the bowl.
One reply on “Day 22”
One of my all time favourite soups. Gets my Irish genes rattling, and reminds me of my child-self peeking over the table at Grandad saying grace, trying not to giggle, before dipping in.