What did you do ...?

I'm ending today in the awareness that I accomplished very little - right down to the realisation, five minutes ago, that I've forgotten to make bread for breakfast. A relic of the early days of lockdown, when panic buying made bread a rarity in the supermarket at the time when my angel was shopping for me, we decided that the home-made white bread made such superior toast that I'd just go on making it ... and this is the second time I forgot all about it. I could use the timer, only I never learned how and it's too late at night for me to fret over it now. There is some densely brown bread, and that will have to do.

And otherwise? I washed towels, and got soaked in seconds rescuing them from the washing line in a downpour: I had to put my shirt in the tumble dryer. I did three Italian revision lessons and two new skills ones. I read a bit, and I wasted a considerable amount of time on social media. This last I escaped with  a late afternoon walk, in which we more or less managed to evade more rain.

So the redeeming feature of the day, and my blip for now, was the dessert for dinner. I bought these figs yesterday - they were calling to me, individually, from a box at head height in Morrison's. I was able to pick them up, to feel their plump weight, to imagine myself back in Apulia with a warm, freshly-picked fig in my hand. So I bought four, and tonight I made them extra special by baking them with honey and lemon juice poured over them. We ate them warm, not hot, with a dollop of natural yogurt. They were sufficiently splendid to redeem the day.

But they'll not be in the toaster in the morning ...