Have ordered bread from the French bakery (I shall collect it tomorrow), and, am pondering the purchase of milk. And blood oranges.
Outside, it is raining, and the sky is a bleak, lowering, threatening shade of charcoal grey.
However, January, a month that seems to defy the measurement of time by expanding eternally, has now passed, and we are now, thankfully, into February, a month that signals the death of winter and heralds the imminent approach and welcome arrival of (the dawn of) spring.
Blood oranges, wild garlic, and daffodils - all of which I love - may appear in February.