Sunday grub? I tend to not go out. I’m reverting to society’s convention that one has to stay in, cook and take it easy. I’m happy to go along with that. Last Sunday we had roast lamb.
Who’s eating? My wife, my son and my father, who lives next door. It’s a multigenerational household, which replicates my own childhood with a pleasing circularity. My grandparents lived with us, so we’d have a roast with friends and neighbours. Now we like to have people over.
