Aga

I have a room in the roof with sloping ceilings, downstairs in the kitchen is the aga. When I look out of the window, the sky is that morning colour scheme of pink and baby blue, there is a field just behind the house and I have a Tolkein moment. The field is bordered by trees, all of different heights, their branches bare, and it strikes me that they look as though they are standing there on purpose, that they have chosen to stand in a straight line and are looking towards the house. I realise I should be taking a photo, but by the time I have fetched the camera, the colours have changed. I still believe the thing about the trees though.

I don't know if people in North America have agas, or even if they would want them. My own rather basic approach to cooking has meant that I don't get the magic of the aga, but it is something my sister has always wanted and now that she has one, she cherishes it. Great things are cooked on it, but then my sister always managed to cook great things on an ordinary cooker. The aga is like a person, or rather a member of the family. Nana from Peter Pan perhaps, it sits there like some great producer of warmth and love.

Amanda and I got very drunk last night and frankly, it only took a couple of bottles of wine. We collected my niece Chloe, who had been playing netball after school, then went round the supermarket, chose French wine.
I can't help myself now, in my head I change everything into dollars. The Canadian dollar is stronger than I can ever remember, it's currently selling for 1.95 pounds here, so I just divide by two. The very good bottles of wine we buy cost six pounds each. On the way up here I bought a meal deal from Boots, costs 2.99 now, Boots seem to have taken advtantage of my absence to put their prices up. Would I pay six bucks for a wrap, a bag of crisps and a drink I wonder. Then I notice that I could have had sausage and chips from a van in the street for 2.20. On Waterloo station a vendor has soup and a buttered bagel for 2.95, but the fact is I can't compare, all I can remember is that the Flaming Wok will sell me a plate of sesame chicken, rice and broccoli for $6.95 plus tax.
I'm amazed to find that a phone call costs 30pence, haven't had to use a phone box in years, but my phone no longer works. I've been away too long, Vodafone have forgotten me.
Chloe can't believe that we can't buy wine in the supermarket in Canada.
'Can you buy marmite?' she asks.
'Yes, but only the small jars,' I tell her. We buy bags of rocket too - arugela - Kevin and I had difficulty finding that when we needed it for a recipe, I guess it's what you're used to. We seem to eat a lot of it in Britain, in salads, in sandwiches.
I whinge, whine and squinny endlessly about the chocolate available in Canada, but I swear, there is too much choice here, I could be like Charlie in a chocolate factory - or better still the fat boy - and just buy bagfuls then sit and munch it on the floor in the supermarket. Galaxy have brought out a whole new range. I want them to share some of it. I end up not buying any, I still have a half a bar of maple flavoured choccie from YVR in my bag, but it's nice to know it's there.

The aga calls. Well, I need coffee. The aga is always on, you just lift the lid on the hotplate and put the kettle on it. I miss my
French vanilla coffee beans from Costco though.