Chilled

While making a cup of tea, the front doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the meat box delivery. During the lockdown, we subscribed to both a weekly veg box and a meat delivery from a mail-order company. Although not the cheapest option, the meat is of good quality. Initially, we signed up for one box a month but these days we order considerably less frequently, waiting until we've depleted the previous box from the freezer.

As I reached the door, I realised I hadn't unlocked it yet today. When I located the keys, the delivery driver had returned to his van, leaving the box in a secure spot near the bins. Nonetheless, I was relieved to bring it in promptly, as the food is chilled using ice in plastic bags, and it's best to transfer the contents straight into the fridge or freezer. Using frozen water in bags to keep the delivery cool is quite ingenious, but it leaves me with empty plastic bags once I've cut them open and drained the water. I made the mistake of letting all the ice melt directly down the drain once, which caused a problem with one of the seals on the pipes, resulting in water running under the sink. Lesson learned—I now drain the bags into the washing-up bowl and let the water warm up to room temperature before disposing of it.

PY was returning from Lyon today, and when he messaged me from the Eurostar, I realised I hadn't thought about dinner; I'd already stored all the new meat in the freezer, so that wasn't an option. It was delightful to hear about his experiences visiting art exhibitions and travelling through France for the past few days. I felt guilty when he offered to go to the supermarket to buy a pizza for dinner—I should have arranged that myself. Instead, I brewed the tea he was craving while he went to get the pizza.