1. Three (small) pieces of toast: one buttered, one with apricot jam and one with raspberry. Not the healthiest breakfast but boy, was it tasty.
2. Winter – and a warm stove – has brought the cats into our office again. They’ve always visited (and Kaufman tends to sleep in there at night, possibly a hark back to when the office was their whole world) but they hang around longer. Strange stretches out between me and my keyboard, then later in the giant bean bag I made for Lily (but which was re-named the B-bag, after Boron’s love for sleeping there); Tilda timidly hovers at the edge – on the steps to the corridor – so she can make a break for it if necessary; and Kaufman reclines, stretching out his full long length on the sofa.
3. John looks up alarmed. He taps his non-existent watch and asks me if I know what day it is. I race through all the possibilities – birthdays, stupid anniversaries and mundane stuff like the recycling schedule – but I can’t think of anything. He eventually puts me out of my misery: it is (suddenly) the day that we need to go for gelato. But of course!
3b. “Would you like to try any of them?” yes, yes I would. It’s just as I’d hoped: a strong punch of orange but, almost like marmalade, enough of a bitter edge to take the edge off the sweetness.
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