Just Stop Erupting Already: Ambrosia and nectar

Up on Mount Olympus those pesky classical gods ate ambrosia and drank nectar. Now, if you're anything like me you'll be imagining Artemis getting handy with the tin opener and heating up some creamed rice for Zeus. It's not clear to we mortals what ambrosia and nectar actually are but for me, right now, it wouldn't be Greek food. Now, don't get me wrong, any cuisine that suggests fried cheese as a starter (saganaki) is a winner in my books. It's just, after three weeks of eating Greek food I'm somewhat concerned that every time I enter a room someone will inquire: 'is it me or can you smell houmous?'

However, today is a day free of Greek food as I'm sat in my local park letting Evan act irresponsibly whilst I blog. Yesterday's airport standby led to an impromptu trip to Gatwick. Then, to my eternal gratitude, my Dad paid for a BA flight to Manchester for Evan and I rather than us having to do the Gatwick Express > London Underground > Leeds by train trip. 45 minutes and a complimentary red wine later I arrived (faintly squiffy) in Manchester. Home was a mere 42 miles away.

Back in Leeds I actually walked round my house saying hello to rooms and fondled the soft furnishings. I prioritised checking that Sky+ had the full complement of 'Doctor Who' logged and I enjoyed the feeling of being home. It's taken about 24 hours and 7 washing machine loads to feel that I'm no longer in transit. That I've arrived.

And for lunch I had my very own ambrosia and nectar: