As in the rest of the world, Christmas here gives us time for reading and walking and excellent leftovers. We’re reading a couple of books aloud as we always do in our winters away. One of the bonuses derived from J’s not having endless work to do. Here cooking the meals is pretty well all the work we have to do, and it’s something we both enjoy, especially with all the fresh produce. Technically it wouldn’t qualify as certified organic, but as synthetic fertilisers and pesticides are unaffordable and therefore not used, it is essentially organic. And we do as we do everywhere in the world - eat the locally available food that is affordable and we like and avoid the highly processed and expensive imports.
So now we are reading aloud a couple of books, but the sheer pleasure one is one of the Number One Ladies’ Detective Agency books by Scottish writer Alexander McCall Smith. They’re all set in Botswana (McCall Smith was born in Zimbabwe, then Southern Rhodesia) and a total delight. Years ago when we were in Tunisian hotel with one of the books in hand we listened to an interview with a man who had been held hostage in a Mumbai hotel room during a terrorist attack. Asked how he had spent his time: “I had one of the Ladies Number One Detective Agency books to read."
Then an afternoon walk around our village. Not only hillside, but roads that must have been tracks before surfaced roads were thought of. And, happily, absolutely nothing squared off or parallel. New buildings amidst very old ones. Old stone walls. We can see from our deck a Swedish flag next to a palm tree and spot it again from its south side, but not entirely clear which house it belongs to and further investigation might involve an embarrassing amount of trespassing. Other houses open directly onto a road, and some roads appear to curve Scottish fashion around a house that may have predated the road.
Downhill there is a fenced property we remember from last spring with goats grazing, orange trees, and an old fashioned bathtub serving as a drinking trough. Goats nowhere near the tub but can be glimpsed through an arched doorway as they gather behind the trees.
And supper of first class leftovers: cabbage rolls, and coq au vin, with chicken wing starters.
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