Quiet time

The calmness which has settled over our corner of the world since Boxing Day is almost as soothing as being afloat. Morning traffic along Darling Street is non-existent till nine or even ten o’clock. The drunks, whose pavement antics are the price we pay for living so close to restaurants and a pub with 2 am closing, have gone somewhere else to disturb the peace in the early hours. Many small shops are shut and we who haven’t left town are none the worse for it. It feels like Sundays used to before they became just like every other day.

You’d think by now I’d be used to idling, to the feel of a day with no buses to catch, no traffic jams to fume about, no deadlines to meet, no need to stress or ever go into over-drive. I am, but still there’s something extra pleasant about these in-between days, the days which bridge the end of one commercial year and the beginning of another. Discounting the frenzy which is New Year’s Eve in Sydney, when the fireworks draw big crowds to the parks around Balmain’s foreshore, these are days without many other people in them, which move slowly and gently and when nothing seems urgent. They resist organization and are open to suggestion. As I say, almost like cruising.

To make up for the absence of the sea and the horizon, I have a kitchen and a garden. Our tomatoes are ripening slowly and the beans and capsicums are even slower off the mark, but we do have a whole bed of lettuce and other green leaves plus basil, mint, parsley, chives etc  to make into salads to go with the ham (still the ham!). I cooked up a batch of apricot jam with fruit leftover from Christmas Day’s poaching. There’s a box of cherries in the fridge which seems bottomless. We’ve barely touched the Christmas cake yet, but where, I asked myself, could be the harm in assembling another batch of Christmas mince pies before the season for eating them is declared over? 

Panzanella is easy summer food - bread soaked in vinegar and mixed with tomatoes, basil, red onions, oil and s&p

Mini Christmas mince pies for snacking with a brew (tea, that is)

 About three days ago we hung a handsome barometer (my Christmas present from Alex)  in a spot where I can check it regularly. Because we've had a run of golden weather,  I didn’t worry at first when the needle was unusually steady. But yesterday a cool change pushed through, bringing heavy rain with thunder and lightning. The barometer’s needle still didn’t budge. I felt a bit stormy myself.

As soon as the (reputable) shop where Alex bought it re-opens we’ll be straight over to return it. Suddenly I’m a consumer with an urgent mission. Pity. A week of Sundays is too short. 

There are other brews in the house