Chewing the Fat

We thoroughly enjoyed our first Sunday roast (and no, I’m not using that word in its unsavoury modern context) for several weeks last night.  We tend to forego them on summer Sundays, in favour of ‘barbecue’ style steaks and drumsticks with quick salad meals – partly because we are often out and about during those months and partly because it’s simply too hot to be kitchen-bound at such length.

But now, in mid-August, having descended to miserable temperatures more befitting of November (and which necessitated us having to turn the fire on yesterday afternoon – the bloody fire, I ask you!!!), we are back to the more traditional Sunday dinners.

I have to say I had missed them.  The return to a bit of chicken or pork with wintery veg as opposed to lettuce is one of the few things I do like about the progression into autumn.

The season has a darkening, ‘back to school’ feel – yet also certain features that make me feel cosy.

I am reminded (poetic rambling alert!) of Saturday afternoons watching rugby on Grandstand with my dad, followed by kippers and bread and butter for tea in front of The Generation Game and Big Break (ah, them were quality programmes in them days)!

Over the weekend I have made the final steps to convert Classmates and Gap Year into pdf format ready to submit them to the bookbinders.  I finally e-mailed them off this morning.  The process has proven a fiddly nightmare.  I just hope the finished books look good.

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