Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.


Wednesday night.

Or it might have been Thursday morning. I didn't know the time. It could have been three in the morning.

I woke with a start.

I don't usually wake in the middle of the night. Why should I? What have I got to be worried about?

Suddenly, something someone had said to me yesterday on the phone came back to me, for no reason at all. I had only been half-listening to him at the time, because I only ever half-listen to suits. Usually it's only quarter-listen. Often I don't listen at all. They talk rubbish and are a blight on the industry.

For some reason three words stuck in my mind. The three words were 'review' and '$20 million'.

I didn't know why something like that would bother me at three o'clock in the morning.

Or why it should keep me awake for two hours.

Once, something like that would never have bothered me.

I must have fallen asleep around five. The warm, softly curved shape under the sheet next to me had not stirred.

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