A friend of mine called Ben Franks has graduated this year, and his great project that he is nurturing is wine tasting. He has started running these evenings, and a few privileged friends got to have a private tasting. I entered as someone who enjoys a glass of wine, but certainly had limited knowledge of the culture and procedures around it. Winding our way through Victoria Park, we came to a large old house, and climbed to the top floor where we were met by Ben, and led into an open dining area.
One overcast afternoon, me and Madison were in the city. We were aimlessly strolling with the intention of eventually finding our way to a tennis court for a game. The mood seemed to match the thick cloud which enveloped the sky, rolling swiftly past and intermittently dampening everything with light rain.
There are some things that just can’t go missing from my life for any extended period. Fresh bread is certainly one of them, and Rye bread has always hit a primal cord with me; something about the aroma of the flour, and the flavour. I set forth with friend Shannen in tow, to find somewhere to pick a loaf up.
Spring is here, there is an air of life in the air, a call to action to go outside and embrace the warmer weather that surely must be coming. What greater way to fulfil this than to walk the local environment. Accompanied by a great friend of mine Madison, we set out to wonder, and to find some local food.
This is a little diary of the things that took place on a trip back home to leafy Sussex over the Easter period past. It was great to have some peace time, to integrate everything that has been happening. Everything was very familiar, very comfortable.