It's Sunday and GreyDoll is celebratin' her two mile walk to get a paper for The Old Man. With a fry-up.
In her cheap, but very well-behaved paella pan from the cookware shop up Causeway Head in Penzance, she makes a luverly brew for herself.
Olive oil heatin', farm shop tomato, slices of smoked tofu, and finally - an egg. With slices of toast, away GreyDoll goes.
Old Man looks on enviously.
"Can I have one of those?"
"Sure can."
He gets tomato, a fat green chilli cut in half and seeds emptied, an egg, fried bread, and baked beans.
Hey. Nobody said his arteries are clogged. He's got whistle clean arteries. The fuel lines are lovely. It was just the engine valve was crap.
All this is consumed to volume-up Verdi. Macbeth, no less.
Meanwhile - suppertime pudding is planned. A crumble made with white-fleshed nectarines - grown over in West Penwith and bought at Farmer Tim's.
Yum Yum again.
(Edit: It WAS Yum Yum. But changed the fruit to peaches grown at the same place. And ground almonds in that crumble mix .... )
A day for feasting and being thankful for local people growing and selling good food.
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