Today, because of some outstanding pre-move chores, I found myself back at my soon-to-be-former apartment at lunchtime.
I’d walked several kilometres up hill and down dale. I’d also heaved a removal carton weighing exactly 20.82 kilos up and down stairs and in and out of taxis. I was in serious need of nourishment.
My route Back to the Old House took me past our local supermarket as well as a nearby greengrocer. I had a small chopping board, a plate, a fork and a spoon, one large plastic mixing bowl, a half-sharp kitchen knife, and a colander to play with, so a salad of some description or other was looking like my best option.
Luckily for me, not to mention my poor, suffering finances, my haul included an on-offer rocket, baby spinach, and watercress salad bag, as well as similarly discounted apricots and grapes, which were complemented by bananas, a small bag of baby peppers, spring onions, a half cucumber, cherry tomatoes, radishes, and a lemon, which together with what amounted to the fumes from a bottle of olive oil took care of the dressing.
So there I sat on the living room floor, enjoying what was more than likely my last meal ever there, contemplating the meals that had been prepared and eaten there in the previous 1 year and 8 months, the culinary triumphs and the tragedies, the successes and the failures, the tasty and the thankfully few near inedible results.
As a finale to the time spent there, as well as a prelude to the Paleo inspired delicacies as yet to come when I am safely relocated to the Home Kitchen, this meal just seemed to work. No more really needs to be said than that, to be honest.
So I wont.