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Tonight I went to visit K in Gypsy Hill, who's generally quite an inspiring person. She's recently taken a drop in salary so she can have Mondays off to study to become a yogi. She's spending her New Year at a women's retreat in the far countryside. That sort of proper, sorted out inside inspiring.
She made me a huuuuuuge vegetarian lasagne, and also some herby spiced thing containing cracked wheat, followed by a tomato salad... all that stuff.
Made it. Properly. In front of me.
At one point, I questioned the state of the pasta sheets - she instantly chucked them out and used fresher ones.
Nothing came out of a packet. Nothing from a jar. Vegetarian, healthy, filling, tasty.
I drove home, slumped in front of the teev, and ate four loads of old, rancid steak chops, fried in butter, garlic, mushrooms, onions and cranberry sauce.
Now what the hell was that about?
Sleepwatch: 3 hours.