After a rather intense day at work, in which an important meeting was held and a lot of trust was placed in some code (and in which I managed to take an enjoyable but 4-hours-late lunch), I headed home.

My plan changed quite drastically. I originally scheduled tonight as a valve day. This is my trick for planning nothing in the expectation that I'll have to sort my life out and do something useful. I was really expecting to have my laundry to do and a bunch of preparatory tasks for my weekend house guest. As the guest has cancelled, and as I did my laundry on Sunday night, I thought I might do some DIY instead tonight.

As I was leaving the office, the urge to cook came over me. I think it was actually an urge to buy fruit, but it morphed.

So I drove to Tesco, bought some ingredients, mindful of the various ingredients gathering age in my fridge, and then I returned to the house to make stuff. It was a week since my last cooking escapade, in which I made some generally well received dishes.

I stood in my kitchen, listening to a CD that I'd finally gotten the time to listen to at a point where the nearest CD player could play it, and I cooked. I made a soup. I made a lasagne. I made a mess. I cleared it up.

There's not much more to say on it than that.

Then I came upstairs and did some admin-type things, listening again to a programme I missed on the radio last night on the art of the arranger. Not a bad night in - quite restorative.