This evening, as the rain fell, I cooked at the barbecue. A typical English barbie, I wrote on Instagram. It was most annoying because the weather report had forecast an evening of clouds but no precipitation.
There’d been no rain through the day though the clouds were sometime a bit threatening over the cricket at Frensham.
In fact, rather than rain, the sun actually popped out a few times. This was good for the players and the sizeable crowd of spectators. A big family with kids and picnic, the small family group with folding chairs and individual dots of old, bearded men. Like me.
I enjoyed a couple of hours watching Frensham 1st XI play Tilford 1st XI in an I’Anson Cup Division 1 game. I can’t report on the eventual score because, according to the Frensham cricket page, there was no game. I don’t even know who was batting and who was fielding. However, by the time I left the score was 116 for 6 after 29 overs.
I saw the 6 wickets taken which included a rather sharp catch in the outfield and a delightful caught and bowled. Most entertaining, though not for the batsman concerned.
As usual, Mirinda had taken the girls for a long jaunt across the country following our usual Holly Bush breakfast. As Mirinda said, this has become our usual routine and has set the rhythm of our life during the plague.
Not so routine is having a barbecue in the rain.
We had to eat inside but I managed to cook on the terrace. I was very pleased with my koftas which usually have a habit of falling off the skewers but which today were perfect. As I bored Mirinda with, it’s because I felt the consistency was perfect and didn’t slavishly follow the recipe.
“Whatever,” She said. “They taste excellent.“
And that’s all that matters, really. Well, as long as they stay on the skewers.
Of course, there’s never any problem with a Caprese salad though they do rather lend themselves to a bright, hot summery sunshiny day rather than a drizzly evening on the terrace. Still, it was lovely too.