I know. It looks like Christmas again. It's because we have been eating our way through the cupboards, the freezer, the potatoes in the cellar, and the tiny stash of leftover bottles from Christmas. All part of lightening the load. I thought we might save the oloroso for next year's pudding, but it turned out to be quite unrealistic once we closed the doors to the inner sanctum of the back room to keep it warm and cosy while watching The Bridge - and if you must know, I was distraught at the end of it and really wished there had been even a tiny drop of something harder to buoy me up.
On the food front, the potatoes - hotpot, mash, vegetable crumble, fish pies, wedges, jackets, soup, bubble - have held up well. There are more at the allotment to be tackled yet (we will have to share, I think), a few leeks and parsnips, winter greens and salads. There are tins of beans, tomatoes, sardines, jars of onions, frozen packets of fruits of the forest, jars of marmalade, a few jars of chutney, dried fruit, nuts, enough flour to keep us in bread and cakes for another month. We can probably last until the end of this month with only topping up on coffee, porridge, fresh fruit, milk. Whatever was I thinking of? Armageddon?
I've made a tentative, very tentative, start on the fabric stash. Then there's the yarn, the cookery books, the novels to go. And don't even talk about the clothes; or the projects rolled up into bags, half started, a quarter finished.
Gently, gently. It will be spring soon. It will be spring soon.
Wake me up when it's half past April.