It's beautiful in Stratford after a couple of days of rain, but the air has that indefinable tang that indicates the imminent end of summer. When I walked home from the theatre last night, the temperature had to be down around 10C and I was really grateful for the light cotton sweater I had brought against the aggressive air conditioning of the auditorium.

I did the week's grocery shopping the other day and came home with five items. Before COVID, when I had a husband and friends who came to dinner, I could fill two folding boxes and a freezer bag on a typical shopping trip. Now, when I buy meat about once every six weeks and venture but rarely into the middle aisles, one box is quite enough for the big loads and a single bag is usually all I need. I haven't been to the farmers' market at all this summer -- what the hell would I do with a dozen ears of corn, or a four-litre basket of peaches? I used to wonder who the hell would buy four oranges and one onion; well, now I know.

This morning I boiled eight extra-large eggs: that's ready-use protein for four lunches. When I buy meat, it's a stack of chicken parts or lamb chops that get individually vacuum-packed and frozen -- ready-use protein for a long series of suppers. Add milk, fruit, veg and whole-grain bread, and I've hit all the macro- and most of the micro-nutrients. Neck a vitamin tablet at breakfast (which is coffee) and call it done.

This is most definitely not the life I imagined for myself back in the day, a mere three years or so ago.

Decumulation continues. I now have far more bed-linen than I need, so I'm moving on three sets of queen-sized sheets to one of my sisters-in-law and two double sets to the niblings -- or Goodwill, if the younger generation aren't keen. Two queen-sized quilts could most definitely find new homes within the extended family.

Now, I wonder who would like a memory-foam pillow ...