That low winter sun

For no good reason today began, as yesterday had, with exercise. I'm not sure I ever expected to spend a Sunday running out of London towards the M25, past the houses of footballers and their wives, marvelling at the tackiness of their gates and the size of their packs of rottweilers on display, but plod, plod went the Enfielder and I, through Cockfosters, Oakwood and lots of other places which had previously just been names on a tube map to me. After some shooting the breeze we then headed to Cafe Nero with E for pannini, and the mozzie and tomato one tastes pretty good after all that pavement pounding.

In the name of avoiding work, I then walked west from London Fields, down trendy Broadway Market where I felt very uncool compared with the fashionistas with their big shades, through Columbia Road (where some great flowers can be had at bargain prices at the end of the day, down Brick Lane and then awandering home. In Brick Lane I stopped off at one of the Beigel places to pick up some granary bread for a bit of a cooking session tonight. I also bagged two 'bowl fors' or 'quid fors' - I can never remember what they call those plastic bowls of fruit and veg which are a nugget each - of shallots and limes, at the super bargain rate of two bowls for £1.50, end of the day offer guv. What I plan to make is a plate of shallots roasted in honey and sesame seeds, slices of avocado, roasted toms with herbs, cucumber in salt, chilli and lime, and lots of bread and aioli on the side.