Sunday nights are to be cherished. They are the last of the weekend, a time to hold on to a slower pace of life. I avoid my thoughts turning to work - there is plenty of time for that on my Monday morning walk. And crab apple wine, tonight, has helped the relaxation process. Much of it was drunk to our evening meal - a pork and lentil casserole bulked out by elderly vegetables - though I spent some of this bottle on the sofa reading whilst Claire was knitting sea creatures. My book is
Capital by John Lanchester and I am enjoying it immensely. It is one of those with many characters not quite colliding with several strands, all of which are gripping.
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