Aziz for curry on Friday night. The special complimentary chef's vegetable was swede and turnip and delicious! Such good food. We were celebrating almost having set a date! It's still almost set.
On Saturday morning I looked out the back window to see goldfinches feeding from my dead brown teazels. Truly, if you grow them, they will come. The fat-feathered pigeon of despair then landed on the fence beside them, but they took no notice, continued feeding, quickly, efficiently.
The bookshop contained a fancy art/architecture book in perfect condition that was selling elsewhere for hundreds. It's now in a glass cabinet at a price guaranteed to make it a very nice christmas gift, if the right person (or someone who knows the right person), should come by the shop. It's a pretty obscure interest, though (hence the low price) so it might end up undercutting the high prices on the internet. The shop was full of confused parents and their frantic grown-up children looking for something to read over christmas, the occasional person dropping off a frantic box or two of pre-christmas de-clutter, stopping to grab a book back off the top of the box.
Ellen's party was unsurprisingly full of the comics great and good. I met the new small press guy from Gosh and ate a lot of cake (I also nearly lost my phone on the tube, but evenings usually contain the odd low point). Ellen has a whole wall full of books I just wanted to read.
All day on Sunday the frost didn't melt in the garden. I went outside at dusk, when the last pink and golden scraps of the sunset were illuminating the lawn into a strange pale space. My native hedge had turned back into bare twigs, and the ice had done strange things to the pond. I hope the frogs are all right.
In the evening I stuffed a butternut squash and roasted it, with potatoes. Savoy cabbage and bacon on the side. Winter food, to keep us warm.