The horizon

When there are lumpy things on the horizon they sometimes throw shadows that monopolise the view. Then the sets of ‘what if’ roll in. Except they’re not sweet turquoise togg-tuggers of waves; they’re more likely to be looming grey walls of dread, which dump hard.

The last stage of this mystical process involves working on my ‘expectation muscles’- whatever they are when they’re at home. In reality it’s a pretty nice thing to do. It means putting time aside to focus on the fantastical and delightful things in the short and longer term, hoping thoughts of these will eclipse any others.

As I said; this isn’t going to be hard. Within the next few turns of the calendar, there are some corkers of things to be excited about;

Possibly skiing. In Dubai. Add to that the hilarity of trying to carbon offset the activity.

Visiting Checchino dal 1887 in Rome. In one of my favourite food books (Hunger) Terry Durack writes about how he chose Checchino out of all the restaurants in the world to celebrate his 40th birthday. This tavern and temple to offally good food has been operating since 1887 and is credited with popularising oxtail braises. Count me in.

Scoffing enough tortellini to hobble a small horse in Bologna. These little cowboy hats of wheat-based joy have always been my weakness.

Tracking down the best bouillabaisse in Marseilles.

Reveling in more pink wine than is reasonable in the land of Provencal Rose.

Seeing the wildflowers- both on the plate and in the paddock at Bras.

Taking the perfect combination of skills with us to the pinnacle; our resident art critic and chef are joining us at the table at El Bulli. We’re going to leave the critique to them; Mr and Mrs Hungry One just plan on consuming.

A whirlwind of dining in the UK- Fat Duck + Petersham Nursery + St John’s. I think that equation may equal, or be greater than any of our expectations.

Then there are the closer prospects.

A bowl of soup while it rains and time spent with Masterchef.

The imminent birth of a new niece or nephew. I may not be able to stop checking my phone, but I refuse to check my excitement.

A weekend jaunt up the coast to a perfect slice of paradise, where we have often taken refuge with the kindest of friends.

I can’t wait to get up to this slice of sand and only see good things- both this weekend and the days after that.

This isn’t just about having rose coloured glasses, but I’m sure a glass of pink will help. It usually does.

  1. Beautifully written, Tors. May these future happy times buoy your thoughts and that huge heart of yours xx

  2. Lovely, just a slice of your horizon makes mine more enjoyable too!! But surely you could add being a black-clad bridemaid at a potentially sweltering February-in-Sydney wedding to the list! It's on mine. As is last Friday's goat curry on the backwards memories that keep me going.

  3. Beautiful post Tor. Hope you get a good swell soon. 6 foot overhead and offshore.

    congrats on the new small one in your life!

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