I'm starting to see there's a direct correlation between drinking and frequency of diary entries.
Friday morning proved especially arduous this week with a gin-inspired hangover from the night before at Finn MacCools. Last night, after several drinks, a minor regression saw me taking the first cigarette in ages, and it made me vomit, literally. In the grand scale of things, it's a good mental association to have made.
The gradual recovery of my sense of taste is drawing out one thing I've always enjoyed - cooking. Living so close to Pike Place Market, it's really a disgrace I've not been eating more fresh produce. This morning, I also stumbled on a tiny Italian deli hidden away called DeLaurenti which had so many different types of olive oil, I lost count. I decided an indoor herb garden would be a good idea too. I'm armed with Jamie Oliver's bible on the topic, and will be baking bread this evening.