Photo diary: week 38, project 366

True love lasts forever, claims Cressida Cowell. Eddie and I are reading the final volume of Wizards of Once now. But this line full of pathos could be argued.
Depending on the stage of your life, you might reconsider what your "true love" is. In high school and early Uni years, I was infatuated with a boy who had no interest in me whatsoever. I "suffered" silently, and at that time in life I believed it was my true love. Later I was deeply-madly love-struck again, and thought I found my true love, but I didn't. I can only smile, looking at that young me.
When I met my future husband, it was my true love, or so I hoped. But you know what, my boys are my true love. And that's enough of the word "love" for now, let's move onto more mundane things.

Tomatoes keep ripening, and I need to find the ways of preserving them. I won't be bothering with the tomato sauce, as skinning all those cherry tomatoes will be one hell of a job. I've read you can freeze them raw, and then add to cooking, though they won't be good in salads, as defrosted, they go mushy.
I might do a big jar of pickles too, with mild chillies and black currant leaves.

On Monday morning we had a surprise phone call from Sasha's school, saying that his class is temporarily closed until further notice. One of the members of the staff needed to take a covid test, and depending on the results, they would let us know whether the class would be re-opened.

That was quite a bummer. Being autistic, Sasha's way of thinking is rather rigid, he hates any deviations from the routine. He was all set for school. He needs messages re-enforced constantly, so all the weekend he kept pointing to the symbols of school to me, and the school transport, and I kept telling him he was going to school etc.

And then it didn't happen, and we didn't know when he would be able to go back to school. It's not the school's fault obviously, many are now in the same position, but when you don't understand the cause and correlation, the anxiety increases double-fold.

The start of the week was challenging for Sasha, and I hope we'll have a smoother week to come.

It was a PE day for Eddie, so he was wearing his PE kit on the way to school.

Having spotted a box of apricots with a reduced label at the Co-Op, I got it for the apricot tart with jam and flaked almonds. I used the remains of the Romanian peach jam, which I bought last week, to spread over the shortcrust pastry, pre-baked for 10 minutes. 

It was a lovely easy tart to bake, and my guys gobbled it up fast.

Passing by my favourite "ghost house" in the neighbourhood. Would so love to have a peek inside. It's completely overgrown from outside, and in the attic one of the little glass panels is missing. I can see a white dove going and out. I bet it's a total shithouse mess in that attic.
There is also an off-white lacy curtain billowing by the window, and I often imagine a thin white hand waving.
Thanks goodness, Sasha's school called that his class has re-opened.

I had a lot of things planned for Thursday morning, and to set me going, had a quick coffee at The Blue Boar with my husband, before he left for his office, and I trotted off to the Romanian shop again, as well as visiting a couple of charity shops in that street.

I bought a big jar of Romanian honey, some lovely cream and strawberry waffles, sharp-tasting sheep's milk cheese and a jar of zacusca (aubergine spread). 

Last week I wrote three book reviews. The Girl from the Hermitage by Molly Gartland will stay with me for a long time. I loved this book, it struck a chord with me, and the main character is my namesake. The publisher, Lightning Books have kindly promoted my post, in a thread of several tweets. 

It was our 24th wedding anniversary on Saturday. It was a simple ceremony at the registry office, with a few friends present (and our families informed post-facto). I didn't have a wedding dress, and put on my favourite blouse, with shoulder pads, well, it was the 1990s. Of four dearest friends present at the ceremony, three are gone now. 

When I look at our old photos, I think I look so stupidly happy. Who would have predicted how my future would unfold?! And here I am, so young, beaming from ear to ear, full of hope, and very much in love.

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