Yesterday

I spent some time cooking what as for me an extravagant meal. I didn't enjoy it and hardly ate any of it. Outside was very noisy all evening. The sound of static cars' engines played in counterpoint with the nomadic music from downstairs, punctuated every now and then by the little girl screaming and loud, unintelligible conversation. Downstairs quietened down by about 8.30pm, but the cars stayed noisy. I hate some bread once things had settled down, and did nothing in particular until I went to bed a couple of hours later. What a boring life I lead.