It was one of those days. One of those days when you don't hear the mirror smash, don't see the black cat on the path ahead, don't see the ladder above. One of those days that makes a lie of the phrase 'no news is good news'. One of those days that you spend working intensely and at the end you have nothing to show for your toil. One of those days that axe murderers use as an alibi. "I couldn't help it. It was one of those days, your honour." Everything I wrote, I unwrote. And wrote. And unwrote (and yes, I know there's no such word as unwrote - but it's one of those days). And then I learn that it's going to cost $1500 to fix my amp. What did I expect? It was one of those days. Now, I don't know about you, but when I am having one of those days, I know better than to tackle fancy food. So I didn't. A couple of chorizos thrown on the barbecue (and maybe it wasn't one of those days after all, because I didn't run out of gas). And some polenta, which was simple because I'd previously made the chicken stock in which I cooked it. And broccolini, which simply needed steaming. And now I am writing this and sipping a red wine called The Independent and there's a message on the back label that reads "The irony of independence - you rarely achieve it standing alone." On another day, I'd think this was a profound observation - but then it's one of those days. Or did I mention that?
CHORIZOS WITH POLENTA AND BROCCOLINI
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