The walk had supposed to last twenty minutes, ten there and ten back. Before we were out of the village, it had been upped to forty. It took us three hours. Almond trees. A walnut tree. And cherry trees. Most of the cherries - on lower branches - had been taken. There were a few left, small and sour. But foraged so worth eating. Cornflowers. A bank of wild thyme, with two pink orchids blowing nearby A wild flower meadow. Someone in his seventies said it reminded him of his childhood.
Having boasted about my homemade mayonnaise, I was told that some would go very well with the planned steak sandwiches for lunch. So I made some in a too small mortar. Others sliced the beef into small chunks, found other things. We made our sandwiches similarly, buttering our bread with mayonnaise then adding mustard, beef, salt, pepper, gherkins, capers and sliced tomato. Delicious. The conversation, though, was impolite: this was a boys’ weekend.
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