An ideal day

Of course part of me regrets not going to Norfolk to see the Black-winged Kite. Only a very very small part though. I would have made it, it chilled out in the same dead tree for most of the day, but I couldn't bring myself to bother. The time wasn't right. One day it will be and there will be no stopping me, but yesterday was not that day. 

I went birding in the morning. Slow going, the same birds lingering. A steady stream of Swallows on both Saturday and Sunday perhaps the highlight, we can go months without seeing a single hirundine. The same two Redstarts were in the same Hawthorn, it was perhaps just the Whinchat that had changed over at some point. 

Back home I rushed around doing a million things. Busy busy. The biggest thing on my to-do list involved getting up a ladder and cleaning the inside of the conservatory roof which had been bugging me for a while. Lots of mould, lots of stains, lots of spiders. I only nearly fell off once - it would have been a disaster as an incredibly spiky plant would have broken my fall. As it was it merely pierced my arm in multiple places. What's that red stuff on the window? Oh, my blood. Nice. I cleaned that up too. There are a few places that I've not been able to reach but I'll get there in round two, and it looks ever so much better already and for now I'm pretty happy with my efforts. After that I mowed what is left of the grass, had a shower, and clean and fresh mosied over to the fridge to see what was going on.

Fresh anchovies was what was going on. I gutted them - there is not a great deal within an anchovie - and gave them a light coating of olive oil, nothing more.  Also in the fridge were several bottles of wine, including a Tempier rosé that I'd put in earlier thinking that it might be the last chance this year. In a stroke of genius however I'd also put a bottle of Tempier white in there, and it was this I reached for now. 

I grilled the anchovies over charcoal and we ate outside. Wanstead in the first week of September could have been the South of France in May. Occasionally, just very occasionally, I get things very very right indeed and this was one of those moments. The Tempier white was an inspired choice, the combination was terrific. It had just the right amount of body to go with the white meat and just the right amount of acidity to cut through the oily skin, with a delicious sreak of lemon and something herbal going on. Along with some dolmades and olives, and then a cheese board featuring Rove des Garrigues, we had the most simple and wonderful lunch I can remember for a long time. We were transported. This set me up perfectly for an afternoon nap, after which I relit the barbeque and we did it all over again with some chicken I had marinated during my earlier whirlwind of domesticity. No additions to my British list, but I'll likely remember today for a lot longer.