Kumquat

I was supposed to be writing but was distracted by the array of infused oils, local cheeses and Moroccan spices being delivered to my kitchen. A fine way to wake, stumbling into an Aladdin's cave of produce, dripping with sea water, covered in dirt and smelling of a thousand great things but so many fuckin boxes to open.

I spoke to "her" yesterday, the cats mother, about Pippy and when she should come and live with me. It was a point which faded to the background. It was our first conversation in months but our first real one this year, last year we were so much more than the little we were today, but that little was good. I left a part of my heart and soul in a basement flat in peckham with Pippy on guard protecting the parts I need to love again. I feel cold without them. I feel like a clown with frozen tears - stored for another day/week/another time maybe.
I stare into the skin of a Kumquat trying to work out if I can really do without Star Anise and wondering if i will ever be the same again.