Brut

The man who lives in the basement of our building wears Brut. I followed him along the alleyway behind our house and great wafts of the 1970s washed over me. I didn't realise you could still buy the stuff. It's not actually an unpleasant smell. In fact it has a familiarity to it which I find rather comforting. I wonder whether it's due a revival. After all, there's probably not a 20 year-old in this country who knows what Brut actually smells of, or knows that, in 1982, everyone smelt of it. It might become retro cool like Trio bars and flying saucer sweets.

It's been raining all day. Ghastly, gloomy weather. To add insult to injury there's also been a tube strike in London, which meant it took poor Nathan 2 1/2 hours to get into work by bus this morning. London simply doesn't work when one aspect of its infrastructure is taken out of the equation. The A1 outside our window was at a standstill. A veritable car park.

I worked through the morning, finishing work on a song called Delusion from Em whilst tidying the house. Fiona arrived at about 1pm and we took a stroll through the wood to Muswell Hill and then beyond into Alexandra Palace Park. Fiona tells me we walked three and a half miles. I probably did as many running up and down the stairs whilst tidying the house this morning.

We came home and roasted an entire rainbow of vegetables with some halloumi and feta cheese and ate it all with rice and a beetroot gravy when Nathan (eventually) returned from work. I've become a whizz at making vegetarian gravies and reductions by the way. Just saying!