An omelette and a poppadom

Great news today: Mum is back at home, and fairly early too, only a week and a day after her operation. She is sounding very happy to be home, and Mas is really happy to have her there. Her last day or so was spent opposite a man, with a highly contagious disease, shouting continually and loudly in German. Being home is clearly all good, and naturally I'm feeling exceedingly relieved and cheerful about this.

Mase cooked her a Spanish omelette which was, after more than a week of no food followed by dire hospital food, was the height of deliciousness.

This evening, after a promising day of work, I went out for a quick and cheery drink with Lorraine tonight in the Cricketers, and then we snuck off for a curry. They had opened the big window in the curryhouse as it was still quite warm. A bit previous for May I thought. However Lorraine, already pretty cheery on two beers, seemed immune to the cold.

Meanwhile I ate many celebratory poppadoms and chutneys. It is a curious fact that the first food I have a memory of eating is a poppadom.